


Goblin Heart

by Whippoorwill_Grey



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Adult Sarah Williams (Labyrinth), Alternate Universe - Labyrinth Fusion, Blood and Gore, Cancer, College Student Sarah Williams (Labyrinth), Dark, Dark Character, Dark Fairytale, Dark Jareth (Labyrinth), Dark Past, Depression, Drinking, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Jareth (Labyrinth) Backstory, Jareth (Labyrinth) Being An Asshole, Labyrinth - Freeform, Love, Love Confessions, Love/Hate, Magic, Mental Illness, Non-Graphic Violence, Owl Form Jareth, Possessive Jareth (Labyrinth), Queen Sarah Williams (Labyrinth), Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge, Romance, War, forbiddin love, post labyrinth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2020-03-20 15:33:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 77,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18995482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whippoorwill_Grey/pseuds/Whippoorwill_Grey
Summary: "But it was my right to leave, just as it is now." She growls, suddenly more aware than she has been in months."Oh is it?" He turns on her then, the same look from her dream crossing over his features. Earning every ounce of his title of the king of goblins. "I think you lost your rights, the moment you stepped back into my realm- my dear."The feeling of the warping of time and space filters through her and they were standing within the throne room. Silence singing within the air."You have no power over me." Her voice cracks with emotion, her green eyes glowing, in the dim lit throne room of laborite and hell. She stands her ground, watching the man before her as he stops mid step.His face crumbles, and pain filters it's way through his eyes.The mere presence of him sends a sudden thrill, and her heart beats sickly within her chest. All of the wishes she had made with hopes to be back in this very throne room, swarmed around her like little vultures. Mocking, twisting, vile.This would be her last time here. She feels it deep within the crevices of her bones.





	1. Forgotten Dreams

 

_He came in on wings of silk and dark temptation. His mismatched eyes telling stories, and his tender voice whispering dreams of the 'morrow. He came to her in the dream world, each time, with hands outstretched. His passion pouring from lips of alabaster, and each time she focused on the words. The words she had regretfully ignored all those nights ago, those damned words that begged for a future with her. Words of love...of promised dreams, kissed her broken heart, breathing her back to life with refilled hope._

_"Just fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave." The words created a cataclysm within her, suffocating the ever-burning fire that dwelled deep within the black hole that represented her soul. She wanted to drown, she wanted to relive the cruel beauty of the ever-fading memory of the man that held her heart- instead of a iridescent crystal- amongst his fingertips. She hated him, yet she yearned for him. She wanted to scratch his beautiful eyes out, and tear away the silk caress of his fingertips. She wanted to scream, to burn past the flood and forget. Oh, how she wanted to forget, and destroy the whole damn world that he had created._

_More than anything, though, she wanted to rip that crystal out of his hand and dare him to love her for what she was now..._

_She hated how she yearned for so much, but she dreaded of the morning- of awaking from this memory._

_It all happened in slow motion, his lips moving- spilling out his feelings. Feelings she did not understand, feelings she had never felt- and probably never will._

_She watched as his wolfish eyes devoured her, and begged for her to burn him with her fire. She even knew that if she had wished for him to burn, that he would gracefully do so- for her. Did she though? Truly understand?_

_She wanted to scream:_ **_YES! Yes. Yes._ **

**_Yes._ **

_Let the foolish word burn like embers in her throat, let her scrape her knees on the marble floor. Let her devour the pomegranate for now she would be his Persephone. Or would she? Would her sable heart and proud determination allow her to bend to his will?_

_Would she beg him, this time, to take her brother back to the aboveground. Back to the world that she was born from, but did not belong._

_Take me for I will be your slave, for my treacherous heart will not allow me any solitude. The poet in her wanted to pronounce, yet her mind denied her to speak. Speaking words of kindness towards him would strip her very voice away, and she was sure she could taste the ash. The ash of the fire that burned deep within her. She would speak anyways, like she had always decided to do in this hellish dream of dreams._

_She knew, just like always, that as soon as words tumbled from her mouth the world erupted. As expected, her world began to fall apart, along with the pieces of her heart that were held together by those mismatched eyes._

_With his hand outstretched still, she could see the hurt fluctuated amongst his ethereal face. Within three heartbeats he would soon disappear and she would have to wake up._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no greater sorrow than to recall happiness in times of misery - Dante Alighieri 

...

The day had unfurled into something of a tragedy.

  
Whether the reason being the outcome of the show Romeo and Juliet; something she had performed in, or the Romeo who had somehow lead her to a smoky bar in the dead of night.

  
Drunken slurs and sloppy kisses.

  
It had begun, somehow as a lapse of ridding the emptiness, but spiraled into something terribly wrong.

  
One minute it had been all fun; songs burning an edge into the back of her skull with a delightful buzz. The next minute of feeling wound tight, trapped and claustrophobic from the body leaning into her, whispering poisonous things. She couldn't help it, her love for old riddles, for poetry as deep as the well of her soul. But hearing it from a strangers lips, it was as if he knew her.

  
Maybe that's why she leaned in, drinking in the passion spilling from the classmate who had been so quiet, so kept and shy. But he knew her, didn't he? How could he know so much, when he had never once spoken a word to her, other than his frivolous portrayal of Romeo onstage.

  
"Forswear it, sight, for I ne'er saw true beauty till this night." He whispers, voice soft against the shell of her ear. It makes her shiver, chills spreading like fire against the open flesh of her arms. The words piercing through her, stilling her mid-dance.

The stranger smiles, pleased with himself, but he fails to notice the look of fear that plays in her eyes.

  
And then a blink, and the world tilts helplessly.

  
The loss of time evident almost immediately.

  
Maybe it was the fact that she was shoved inside a cramped room, her body pressed into hard leather of furniture too small. 

  
No , her consciousness whines, a machine buzzing back to life after malfunction, jolting her from her drunken stupor.

  
Something like shame laps at her; she never knew that drinking would make her so stupid as to go home with someone. And what made it almost unbearable to understand, that made the problem even worse, was that it had been the first time she had drank past the line of tipsy.

  
Rough calloused hands fumble against the flesh of her upper thighs, pulling her back to the present. Creating a tidal wave of fear to wash through her, because time was indeed lost, and she had not a clue as to what had happened up until now.

  
She looks up, finding the light from somewhere nearby, it appears more as a glob at first, so she blinks in attempt to focus her eyes. The man above her, his name forgotten at the moment, grabs her jaw with gentle fingers. Pulling her attention to him.

  
"Are you okay?" His voice echoes, and her vision aligns for a moment too long.

  
His eyes were hazel, but were they not strange moments before?

  
The light cast the spell of shadows against the man's face, twisting it strangely. Hunger lingering within the soft wrinkles around his eyes, the flush of cheeks stained red, with greasy blonde strands that cling to his forehead. It's a cold splash of reality that brings her back to herself.

  
His eyes search hers, looking for any sign. Wanting things. Things she was not ready to give, things that she had tossed up out there like a fool.

 

 She attempts to say something, mumbling in a way that escapes as a groan. Somehow miscommunicating along the way, because of the way he had processed it; his fingers caressing into the dip of her navel. It makes her realize her dress had been pushed up, showing off pale white cotton boy shorts.

  
His damned eyes burning hot within the low darkness, and how couldn't she have seen that before? It was the same expression he wore when he had watched her on stage. 

  
She tries to breath, to relax the involuntary flinch that wracks her body.

 

  "I can't." Her voice, much younger sounding than it had been in years, erupts out of her like a volcano ready to blow. "I can't do this." She shifts, wondering why she didn't change out of the dress before going to the bar.

  
 "What?" He was stupefied, his spine stiffening as he sat up away from her, giving her a glimpse of soft pale skin. He looked at her strangely again, something like hurt crossed his features, and his hand was pulling the hair from his face. 

  
 "I can't do this." She burned though, burned through that darkness as she pulls herself up, and wraps herself up like a beaten dog- cowering.

  
Suddenly her head spins, threatening with a sharp twist of a familiar ache, the pain blinds her. She grabs the edge of the furniture, assumedly a couch, and begins the routine breathing exercises she had been doing for over six years.  
Hadn't she taken her medicine? She ponders over the events of the day and realizes that-no- she didn't, she had broken the ongoing routine. The number one rule. Something that had become like breathing air. It all began to make sense, the illusions.

  
Didn't her doctor tell her it was the side effects of the medicine?

  
She kneads the leather, nails digging deep, and then her audience tugs on her sanity. Bringing her down long enough to analyze the situation.

  "What? Why not? Do you have a boyfriend? You came back with me to my place."  His voice was treacherous, ringing in her ears; making her skin crawl.

  
She wanted to peel away her skin, or scar it beyond beauty. She hated it, she hated him, and she hated this stupid cluttered apartment she had been practically led into. She was trapped, and what was she doing? Wondering if she took her Fucking medicine. Pulling herself up, suddenly more of a raft lost as sea, than a twenty one year old in an shotty apartment.

  
"No I don't have a boyfriend, but I don't want to do this, not with you, not here. Not ever." She forces herself to stand still, trying to radiate a composed fixture. Sobering up in the process. A little, but not enough. 

  
He lunges for her, grabbing at her arms, pulling her to him as if she were a bird trying to fly away. Her back cracks loudly against the sudden turn of events, and the sudden stale taste of beer on his breath makes her stomach roll in warning. 

  
"Come on baby, you kissed me earlier today- you meant it." He shushes, wiping at her face, wiping away her tears that had unknowingly escaped. "Why are you so scared? I'm not going to hurt you." She watches as the hunger visually leeches from his eyes, and into his hands as he caresses from her cheeks to her sides.

  
She trembles, pulling back. "Wait." He mumbles, steadying her as if she were a doll. And maybe she was? She felt like one, all fragile and weak. So much so she found herself subconsciously wishing she could transform into something like a viper, a warrior, even a night with a sword. "You're a virgin? Is that why you're scared baby doll?" He grumbles his voice slurring, his features doubling from the effects of the whiskey. 

  
"Let me go. You're drunk, I am... I don't know what I am." She mumbles pulling away from his grasp, finally free from his caging arms. She hears him whimper and moan in protest, before he stumbles after her.

  
Sarah fumbles with her dress, straitening it out and biting back at the anger that boils underneath her skin. It didn't matter if she was a virgin  or not, it was no excuse. She casts a glance over her shoulder, taking in the college wreck of an apartment. Hobbling over strewn clothes, crashing into the arrangement of furniture when they mysteriously popped out in front of her.

  
And then she was being yanked backwards.

  
He had grabbed her dress, ripping the end, trying to bring her to him; when it only made her fight harder for the door.  She wouldn't go down without drawing blood, she knew. She cant be a victim, not now- not ever. All she  needs to be was safe. Safe.

  
Safe.

  
Her body ripples as she fights for control, swaying around just as soon as her knuckles and hands collide with the door. He lingers a few feet away, tears escaping his eyes, making him look like a little boy whimpering over a lost toy. It makes her sick.

  
"Ah, I knew this would happen. Sarah, you're so beautiful...please stay, I will make it up to you. I am sorry I acted like this." He begs, clawing at his face that steadily turns red within the lamp glow. "I just wanted to be your Romeo, you never let anyone in and then when I saw that you...you had opened up to me- I just thought, thought that maybe I could be the one. "

  
She couldn't bother with seeing his face anymore, and was turning the nob to the door, freedom at her fingertips.

  
A laugh escapes her, something mocking and crude. Like someone that doesn't know how to laugh, but tries to anyways. It echoes throughout the hallway just outside his apartment.

  
And it continues as she flees. 

 

...

 

The night is brisk; the new bloom of Spring has long curled up to fight the freeze threatening the midnight hour. 

  
The street lights stood tall and thin, their lights casting a soft ethereal glow to the concrete world.

  
After a few minutes of allowing herself to sober up; enough to realize how far from the college she had strayed. She hails a taxi. Its an older woman with wiry red hair and tired eyes. "Where to?"

  
"New York University- the college." She mumbles, climbing in- immediately thankful for the heater being on. Rubbing against her arms to warm them up, she glances out of the window, and watches the world outside blur and shift. 

  
She had always thought of New York as a place of dreams, but it was before moving there, before realizing that the past never strays far. The city that never sleeps, always seems more of an adversary than a dream, especially after her dream preposition of going to Julliard had been declined. 

  
So, her love for literature was the second route. It had become so hard to even think about anything else, when being able to feel anything other than the dull ache of being hollow, had become so hard over the years. The medication, which had been forgotten for the moment, was to blame for the most part. Or that's what she tells herself as she clutches at the dirtied material of her dress.

  
She needed the medicine if she wanted to live. But the price was to give up on everything else, and that had been the hardest pill to swallow.

The cab lurches to a stop; her heart spikes nervously within her chest when she thinks about her purse, and finds it clinging to her shoulder. Somehow it mysteriously appeared on her shoulder after all of the commotion had gone down, that or she was possibly still a little drunk. She hands the money to the driver and mutters a soft thank you before she spills back out into the cold air.

  
Her legs automatically begin walking the familiar route to the dorms, they burn shamelessly at her stupidity of forgetting a coat and from wearing a dress of all things. But the cold air feels good, it seeps in through the cracks of her and anchors there in the most uncomfortable grounding way. 

  
She has been so lost, for so long. The dreams had stopped years ago, the memories erased, everything had become so plain and normal. Everything forgotten, until tonight.

  
Maybe it was the mistake of not taking the medicine; hallucinations, after all, were just a side effect to her little problem. But the reminder was abrupt, and so was the headache that lingered at the edges.

  
She thumbs for the keys, and pushes her way into the dorm. More thankful that her father insisted for her to live by herself, because it gave her the permission of stripping as soon as the door clicks shut and locks behind her. Its as if a thread snaps, and she pulls at clothes as if they were on fire.

  
She thought she could forget him in a measly blonde hair hazel eyed boy. The realization was gut wrenching, and theatre would no longer be this fun event. 

  
She wouldn't go anymore, that was it. She wouldn't go.

  
The shower was liquid fire on her numbed limbs. It had felt nice after the burn ebbed off, and she stood under; a faithful woman meant to burn away the sadness and the feeling of being dirty from the stranger's hands.

  
Thankfully he had not gone further, that she had come to at the right time. Because she wouldn't know what to do if she were to lose herself like that, give herself away so freely and betray herself. Its the only thing she has that hasn't been taken away from her, so why did she have to go and be so foolish?

  
Her head cracks against the white tile of the shower wall, knocking back the breakdown threatening to swallow her whole.

 

The average daily routine for bed proceeds on, and she ignores the linger of the alcohol. Slipping on the regular baggy clothes for bed, covering as much as possible until not an inch of skin showed save for the tips of her fingers and toes; and of course her face.

  
The face that had lost it's baby fat years ago, the face of a stranger who currently stared back at her from the pool of the mirror of the vanity her stepmother insisted she have.

  
She wasn't a princess, and ever since the day she had come back from that...whatever that was. She had abruptly dropped everything to do with her fairytale outlook on life, leaving her stepmother feeling guilty.

  
Her room now, if she thought about it long enough, looked just as hollow as the green in her eyes.

  
So, she sat at the vanity desk, staring at the reflection when a familiar feeling flowed through her. A memory; of a time where her friends had once peered back at her through the veil of another world. 

  
_You should wish._

  
Her mind curls around itself, giving way to a racing heart.

  
Wish yourself away. You know he would answer, so why are you so afraid? 

  
Too many years of denying the fact that her very soul has become chipped and tired, could she possibly do this? Push through for old times sake?

  
She gulps, fingers combing through the damp tresses of her hair before she eyed herself again. She took a moment to look at the small shelf of books that sat lodged on their tiny shelf, the only things that stayed long after the event.

  
The books of fairytales, fairy folk, and other odd woven words.

  
She fumbles from her seat and goes to the mini fridge sealed off in the corner of her room, and begins to create a concoction meant to serve the purpose of an offering. Because Faerie things liked offerings? 

  
Her throat is raw with the need to scream, and something like hope begins to bloom within her chest. Something that she hadn't felt in so long, it makes her giddy as she settles back upon her desk chair with a bowl of milk perched just at the base of the mirror.

  
She sits there, staring at the bowl of milk and honey. Heart thudding within her chest, stomach in knots, and manages a smile that looks a little more herself.

  
"I wish the goblin king would come and take me away." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of editing is being done on the earlier chapters. I started writing this story a few years ago, and so if there are any strange changes to the writing then that is why. Hope you guys enjoy!!


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

_He didn't come._

  
He didn't come, and she does not know how to feel.

 

_"I wish for the goblins to come and take me away."_

 

For the umpteenth time the words escape her. Each more worn and distressed than the last as she battles the feelings that gurgle underneath her skin. The longer the seconds tick by the more everything feels like it had been an illusion, just a silly little dream that her brain concocted.

A scream is building, but she bites it back as she breaks down. Everything bubbles over, and its so painful when it eats its way out of her chapped lips. It's so powerful, this empty feeling, that it breaks from her throat in raw agony. Doubling her over like a broken porcelain doll, and leaves with no other choice but to curl up into a ball against her white comforter. She's so terribly sober now, and catches herself wishing to drown the pain. Wishing for the wash of numbness that had become second skin over the years. Except now, now that she wishing she hadn't dumped the pills down into the toilet and flushed them the day before.

Her father would lose his mind, surely. If he knew she had decided against her life, that she was done being a slave to her condition. Was that why she had drank herself silly only but a few hours prior? What a silly, _stupid_ , little girl.

The thought wavers in her mind, and she wants to laugh at it. Bully it into submission until the aching is gone and the emptiness is back. But nothing stops it, this breaking deep inside of her. So she chooses to grip at the sheets as if they are the only thing keeping her from slipping away. Apart of her wants to let go, let her body drift away into dust and nothingness. But all that happens is the world tips and swirls, with each sob like a knife to her chest. 

She does even bother glancing around at the fabrications of her room, of all of the things her father and step mother insisted she have. Trying to make her normal, trying to the best of their ability to pretend she didn't have a non curable brain tumor. 

He tried to spoil her with materials, but lacked the compassion to save her heart. When was the last time he ever even called for more than to check in?

They hadn't expected her to live this long, but the medicine was helping. It had to help, it was the only thing that _could_ help. No more though, she wants to say. No more.

She swallows dryly, unable to breath through her nose for a moment before lying back on her bed. Once again curling in on herself by hugging her knees to her chest. If the Labyrinth had ever been real, then nothing made sense, but with it being real didn't make sense at all either. 

She ponders underneath the heavy comforter of her bed, and swipes at the snot running from her nose. _If_ the Labyrinth were real, maybe it just kept pieces of everyone that had ever challenged it. Then it would make more sense, it would even explain the reason why she feels like something is missing from her. 

 _What if that is why he is so cruel?_ Her mind congests, conjuring up fuzzy memory of familiar blonde hair and cold eyes. She catches herself thinking about him a lot, and all but mourns the sudden loss of what he had looked like. Its blurry now, just an abstract of what use to be, and it makes her feel like shes one step closer to forgetting. 

"Nonsense." She reassures herself, now drowsy.

 _How is it nonsense? It could be very possible, but then again he was never truly_ **_cruel_ ** _\- was he?_

She yawns, curling in tighter around herself as she feels the beginnings of sleep trace her weathered mind. She would forget everything that has conspired on this dreary Thursday evening. Forget about the foolish hands, forget about the poison she sipped willingly, forget about the no reply. 

Yes, simply forgetting. 

 

* * *

 

 

He slips in through the darkness, taking precaution to side step the bowl of milk and honey, before slipping silently to the sleeping form upon the bed.

He had watched the entire time, through the looking glass of his world, and into hers.

She had surprised him with the depth of the sadness that tethered her to her mortal realm, pulling at something within him that made him stop in his tracks.

He was on a mission, but...

Something was different about this mortal. The air around her cut like a blade; it was savage. At first, he had believed it had been the mark of the champion of the Labyrinth, but it was entirely _her_. She did not even possess an ounce of magic like he was lead to believe. 

The mirror sat on the edge of her room, it's reflection rippling as the portal closed itself shut, leaving him alone within the compound of the mortal realm. It gave him a strange feeling, just as it did hundreds of years ago, especially now that he took up the space within this cluster-fuck.

The dagger on his hip glints maliciously off of the light streaming from a tall fixture just outside of the window, and he knows he should have it poised above her chest.

Ready.

He was suppose to eliminate this woman; whether it be by slitting her throat, or staking her like a vampire, both he had contemplated.

He was a bounty hunter, and a good one at that for crying out loud.

But embarrassingly enough he hesitates as he had watches her, begging the king to take her back. She looked so pathetic and small, so much so that he promises himself that he would do the deed while she was asleep..

Quick, easy- simple.

Humans were delicate creatures and it wouldn't take but a second. Though even then, as he stood beside the bed, taking her in up close;  at her snotty nose turned bright pink from being rubbed raw, blood speckled on her lower lip from being bitten,  hell even the way she seemed to curl in on herself. Something so weak. So damn sad.

So he told himself he'd wait for a better chance, watch her for a little longer. Lilith would have to wait.

Sooner than later he would have to do his job, especially with the pay being double along with the fact that Lilith released him from captivity. It was all he could do to repay her. Lilith was a high elf and she was hell bent and furious. " _You are the only one I know that could do the job."_ She had hissed. A woman like her had held a grudge against this child of a girl ever since she beat the labyrinth.

Why? Because Lilith was _jealous._ And jealousy was enough to kill anyone in his world. The king didn't want to marry, and Lilith blamed it on the girl. Everything was always about the girl. It was quite tiring, but upon witnessing the girl first hand. He drew up the conclusion that the women from the underground were- to find the right words- horrible.

But he had a job to do, something he had been doing for a very long time. And it had been such a _long time_. Oh but he had to watch, seeing what was so damned special about a child who had beat the king at his own game. She was the only other competitor to beat his games, but it was not like he was into stealing children from little girls- either. That was just a mere myth, a itch scratched into flimsy books of lore. 

 So as he stood beside her bed, listening to the erratic beating of her heart in her sleep, he decided he would wait. Just a little longer.

 

 

 

Following her through the shroud of invisibility that was granted to him was a lot easier than he had thought it to be. He followed her through her daily routine. Watching as she communicated with the other humans, and went to these little schooling rooms meant for the gatherings of knowledge. It was rather boring, the information dull and drab, none of it correct in any way. But enjoyed watching the students dwindle about. She was a faithful student.

He found he hated the buildings, and stayed out of them for as long as he could stand it before having to go and make sure she was still in the same place she had been in earlier.

It wasn't until she was finished up with classes that he began to decide that he would make himself visible. Cloaking himself in a more mortal worthy suit.

 

 

The woman known as Sarah Williams pauses mid walk to study a nearby maple tree in the process of blooming. The smell of nature in blossom was present as much as it could be  underneath the pollution and musk of the concrete kingdom.

Spring was evident, beautiful even as it struck an empathetic chord within him. How the humans weren't aware of the way the flora and fauna mourned, was beyond him.

Though she knew, didn't she? With the way her gaze raked over the small red leaflets budding on the branches lined up just outside of the school. The look of pure tenderness over something so small, sent a thrill down his spine. Making him stop dead in his tracks as he went about pretending to rest after jogging.

The emotion was so pure, so entirely innocent. That it made him contemplate showing her other beautiful things; like the flowers in the underworld. Flowers unknown to the likes of the human kind of the aboveground. He mentally stifles himself from thinking any further. She was the _target_. 

A sigh, and a glance from the corner of his eye, concludes that the brunette had brought her hands around a bundle of red maple buds. They were bright against the pale flesh of her palms. _Such small hands._ The look on her face was that of a child: pure fascination. It made him see how much young of a mortal she was, so young to have experienced the Labyrinth. Too young and inexperienced. What was king even thinking?

"Grow big and strong- will you?" her voice floats to him over the soft breeze, she speaks to the small maple tree as if her voice alone could encourage its growth. It was the first time he heard her voice, and it ruffles his feathers. What? Her voice was sultry, _velvet_ , and nothing about it looked like it could have come out of a voice of a child.

He was around women a lot, high class women with looks carved from marble. None of them had a voice as luring and ethereal as the woman before him.

He found a seat on a bench nearby, and continues his evaluation. His curiosity burning hot in his chest, and he hates himself for being so intrigued. Maybe he's lost his charm after all the years of exile, or maybe its because he's just expecting something _more_. If anyone were to ask, he'd just say that he were only assessing her to make sure she was magic free. Yes, just like that. 

His eyes watch her, boring into her  as she examines the leaflets. He lets himself look her over, still assessing or whatever, and finds that although she looks pretty young, she had formed a soft subtle womanly curve. Its in the dip of her hips, but its nothing perfect. Nothing like what he has seen before, but its more than the picture he had seen of her within the history books. The scrolls with a etched out fleshing of an overly thin child with long brown locks. She is more angular, curvier, but still frail and thin. Still the same.

But the voice, yes the voice. Seasoned and so provocative that it spoke of soft moonlit evenings with twine and silk. 

It makes his skin crawl, just as much as her eyes do. Which were more cruel than he had ever imagined as they watched him- watching her.

"What are you looking at?" Her voice crept up on him like a wolf ready to bite, her gaze killing him on spot.

He flashes a toothy grin, bristling on the inside from being caught checking the mortal out. "You."

 

* * *

 

"You." The man that appeared to be straight out of the Viking era spoke. He sat there his eyes were bright and clear, even from a distance, as they dared her to contradict him.

He was a giant of a man, a brute with battle braids of deep umber brown woven back and off of his face. Very exotic, but as exotic as someone in New York could be.

"Well stop." She feels blood warming her cheeks from the attention, and wonders briefly if there is anything on her face. She doesn't check, but she does turn away from his watching to look back at the tree she had been staring at. That's probably what he had noticed, her talking to the trees. Losing herself in the disassociated world of her mind where the trees were more likely to talk back.

"I apologize, my lady." His reply took her by surprise and she turns back to him. Quickly sapping in his appearance to report to the authorities if anything were to happen. But they were out in the open, and he had been watching her first. So it was her right to watch back. His whole body _engulfed_ the bench, a bench that normally served a wonderful seat for at least four people, and she felt her flesh pebble in goose flesh.

The itch to get going started up, but her feet stayed planted to the spot. The breeze had picked up slightly, making her long brown hair float against the wind. It had been three years of growing it back to make her realize how much she appreciated it. The rage, all the bottled up scorn, rumbled out of her without thinking.

"I don't want your apologies, I just want you to know it's creepy for a man- such as yourself- to be staring at a random woman." Her tone clips, a machine gun firing off. But his laugh deflects them as if they were mere cotton balls. There is a creak from the bench, and a light shuffling of shoes against the side walk that lets her know he is walking over. 

Sarah looks over, eyes taking in the first thing she sees, and its the black cotton shirt stretched as his arms that makes her flush red again. Why is he giving her so much attention? She thinks, balancing herself on both feet anxiously. 

She knows she should back away from him, but stands her ground as she flicks her attention back to the tree. Her mind reeling on the information of the newcomer. 

He had to have been in his late twenties to early thirties, from the way he carried himself. And with the more she kept giving him side glances, and the closer he got, she could see the crinkle and weather of his skin. A warrior who stood tall, shoulders bundled tight in position. 

A light splash of freckles high on his cheeks, and she finally gives up on trying to look inconspicuous. With out right staring, she sees the many scarring that curls in intricate symbols along both sides of his scalp; It's incredible how deep the scarring is. Almost like the designs had been burned in deep into the skin of his skull; they carved around the sides of his head where little hair grew save for the Viking Mohawk that consisted of hundreds of different braiding and beads. How strange.

"Now it's my turn to ask." He rumbles, his shoulders shaking from a hearty chuckle, as he looks everywhere but at her, "why are you staring?"

"You have a lot of scars..." she intones, her voice soft and more pliant. She's given up the bickering by offering up her curiosity instead.

"Ah. Those." He murmurs, his hand finding its way to the five o'clock shadow of a beard growing along his jaw and upper lip. "They are from the past; let's just say. I've gone to war- several times." She nods silently, watching him go from rubbing his face to touch the maple with care. His hands are so large that the little buds on the limb all but disappear.

"So, you never answered my question." She intones again, voice more clear and grounded. Any trace of curiosity is met with more unwavering curiosity. Her mental sword glistens as it with drawls from its case, and apart of her mourns the fact that they could never be able to duel with true swords.

"Well, you never answered mine."He seems to catch on, and withdraws his weapon as well, because he grins and his eyebrows shoot up to his hair line. Giving her a better look of the other scar that stretched over his left eyebrow and over the curve of his brow bone.

 _The grin would eat you if you let it._ Her mind buzzes, and she feels like maybe shes talking too much. So tries to break the fun with glancing at her watch. 

After a brief glance she knows she should just walk away, leave him be to be... whatever he was. But instead, almost against her will, her hand comes up in offering. A handshake. 

Though shes just not prepared for him to stare at it, dumbfounded by the gesture. Its a little odd, and apart of her finds it alluring. She decides then he  _is_ from a different time period, a hero on his way to capture the fair maiden and bring her to safety. It makes her grin, more thankful that she had rid of her medicine than ever.

"The name is Sarah Williams" She all but breathes as the words escape her, and as his hand grabbed hers. His skin burns against hers, and she inhales sharply at it. And lets herself stare at the tiny crescent scars over the joints of his knuckles. 

 ** _Trust him._** A soft voice whispers in the back of her mind, soothing the growing feeling of the nauseous anxiety from yesterday.

"Rolan, but I go by the name Raven." His voice turns jaunty, his sharp jaw flexing underneath the subtle beard.

"I like Rolan better." She pulls her hand away, feeling the callouses scrape against her own skin. And takes in his silly disguise of jogging pants and cotton shirt. He is Rolan, a mighty warrior, he did not need the feeble clothing of a human.

He took her gesture, and his head cocks to the left, reminding her of how a puppy looks when it gets confused. It makes her smile back, and she tries to contain herself from excitement of meeting someone new. 

Amusement plays in his eyes. "Well, I like Raven better." He picks at her, obviously pleased with her sass.

Why did she feel so comfortable? More comfortable than she should with a strange man. Especially after healing from the trauma of a few nights ago.

"Ah, well I will call you Rolan. I apologize in advance ." She stifles a soft chortle, and realizes shes hinted that she would be talking to him again. But its three o clock, spring break has started, and she had a full week to spend at her father's house. She reminds herself that she needs to pack so she could get going, but the rebellious part of her wants to stay. To relish in the interesting conversation with the great warrior known as- _Rolan_.

"Your apologies are welcome." His voice breaks her thought process. Making her glance up at him, and notices that his clear eyes are staring at the buds of the tree. He seems to be lost in a whole other world entirely.

"I have to go..." she hated the words, but she needs to pack. He makes a little snort in the back of his throat as he comes back to the present, and nods. Looking down at her with a look that she cant quite process. Its something that makes her stop and think about the conversation so far. Had she said anything wrong?

But then a smile softly lifts the corners of his mouth, something so light. One of friendship, one that she hated yet seemed to find _nice_. She just wishes it could last, but knew it was for the best that she leave now and get a head start on packing. "It was a pleasure to meet you _Raven."_ She nods at him, watching him watching her before she walks away.

It takes about five minutes for her to realize how odd it is for a man, a ugly muscle man with a Viking status, to be called _Raven_. Quickly, she turns around, earning a look of bewilderment from a few passerby's.

  
Her eyes frantically search for the man who is clearly nowhere in the radius as she.

 


	4. Chapter 4

The eight year old boy declares victory. His mighty plastic sword lifts high above his head, and a mighty war cry dances from his lips.

She sneaks a peek at him as she lies underneath his feet, stifling a groan from the weight he ensures. Her own weapon, a plastic battle axe with crayon stains, has been thrown from her grasp in her awful acting of being stabbed through the heart. He had won this battle- this time.

As she watches him whoop and cheer she realizes how much she missed him, and how much she was all awkward limbs. Whereas he was a ball of energy constantly awaiting for the next adventure. She felt a hint of relief at his imagination, slightly jealous with the fact that he was able to express it so openly.

"Toby, STOP SCREAMING!" Irene called from the kitchen, her shrill voice defeating the air of childishness. Sarah opens her eyes and spontaneously flips Toby over to the floor. Hes a big kid, but not big enough for her to not be able to pick him up still.

She begins her onslaught of tickling him, earning brownie points at the bubble of laughter that spills from his lips. At his squeals that shake the air like lightning. She could never allow his fun to end, not while she's there. There is silence from her step mother, and then there was a much deeper voice calling.

"SARAH! Stop that! Your mother just said to stop." Richard, her father prowls into the room with coffee cup in hand. "She has a headache, respect that. I thought you knew better."

Sarah stops mid-tickle, her fingers twitching slightly as she pulls herself up and glances at the clock. Its been five hours since her arrival, and they had not yet realized she wasn't taking her medicine. Five hours of her arrival, and they hardly bothered acting like they missed her.

A feeling of sadness washes over her as she looks around the room, seeking her step mother who was in the kitchen. She took notes on how the living room had changed drastically. It looked and felt about as empty as they were.

"Sarah, we cant play any more- not while mama has a headache." Toby whines, pulling at her arm. Pulling her towards the direction she knew best- her bedroom. Her bedroom that had been changed into her father's study. She nods in agreement, and steals a glance back at her father who has settled into the newer lazy boy recliner. His coffee and steel grey eyes watch them.

"Its okay Toby. I need to go unpack, we have been playing all morning." She whispers to the little boy, her mind going back to the time she had almost lost him. "It is 4:30 now, I am sure after supper we can go for round two. I think I can beat you this time." She gives him a wink, sending a Cheshire smile to his face immediately. "Now gather our weapons and retreat! I suppose your mother wants you to bathe, for you are awfully sweaty- my lord." 

She watches him gather their weapons and bows to her before he scampers upstairs, his feet stomping maniacally, reminding her of her younger years. She went to follow him when her fathers words stopped her short.

"He is always behaved- until you are here." His voice was stone cold, scolding. "I assume it is only because you allow this nonsense of childish fantasies. He needs to begin to learn about being a little _boy._ Not some magic wielding freak with a sword." She wants to wince, to continue walking, but she surprising herself by standing her ground. She has power, she has power.

"And how does a little boy act?" She turns to face her father, her voice stone cold as well, her eyes sharp as she watches his spine straighten in his recliner. It had been years since she back talked, and now her cover was blown. Her caring about anything has completely gone out of the window.

"A little boy is suppose to like sports, he is suppose to-" He begins, but she cuts him off.

"A little boy can do whatever the hell a little boy wants to. He can wear whatever he wants to, and if he wants to be a _freak that wields a sword then he can be a freak that wields a sword."_ and just like that she retreats upstairs, not wanting to apologize or go back on her word. She did not care enough to stand and get scolded.

It wasn't until she was upstairs when she saw her brothers bright blue eyes peeking through his bedroom door. From the look of it, he had heard everything going on, and for a moment he seemed much more grown up than she had ever seen him.

"you stopped taking your medicine didnt you?" he asks softly, his face somber.

"What? What makes you think that?" It makes her want to pull him into her arms, take away all of those fears. Let him be a child.

"Your fire is back. You do not obey to them like you do when you are on your medicine." With a trembling voice he makes his way from his bedroom to her arms, a worn Lancelot held tightly in his arms. She was all too happy to swoop him up.

"Ah, well...when I do not take my medicine I feel much better. Stronger." She whispers to him. _Toby_ , precious Toby. His face burrows into the conjunction of her neck and huffs. Little shoulders shaking ever so slightly, giving away the fact that hes crying against her. Her stomach tightens up into a knot, and she hums softly as she runs a hand through his wild untamed curly blonde locks that were so fine they looked like tendrils of fire. He was radiant, like a tiny sun. Her sunshine. Her everything. She automatically finds herself missing his firecracker spark, the attitude that she had helped come to life when she was here.

"I like strong sissy." She could see she was back to square one of trying to get him to come out of his shell, but she did not want to fight it right now. His words were god sent, a step in a new direction of accepting herself.

"Thank you buddy, go take a nap. I will come get you when dinner is ready." She stolls into his room to put him in bed, hes much heavier than she was use to so she ignores the way she struggles to not drop him, and makes mental note to start working out. She needed to be stronger. If not for herself, then she needs to be strong for him.

She put him on the bed and quickly steals a glance around his room. Luckily it stayed the same, with the starry night sky blanketing his walls. A few posters she had given him hung up in the exact way that she use to have it in her room. It makes her chuckle, and she leans down,  putting a kiss to his head as he lies down. She goes to pull away when he offers Lancelot to get a kiss as well.

"Mommy tells me that I am getting too old for him, but she cannot take him away. She just cant." His sleepy voice drifts to her ears as she takes Lancelot from him. Pulling the old ratty, slightly smelly, bear to her chest in a hug. The dark tendrils of old memories flutter within her like rotten butterflies.

She gave the bear a kiss before returning it to her baby brother. She notes to never stop calling him her baby brother; to never stop giving Lancelot a kiss for bed as well. 

"She will have to go through me if she thinks about getting rid of this bear." The smile feels forced, but she does it anyways. More thankful for how much love the bear had gone through. A missing eye, a torn ear from Merlin, some missing patches of fur. It was loved, and she _loved_ that.

It occurs to her that she needs a walk. She needs fresh air. She needs somewhere to scream, because it was definitely not going to be in this house. So she kisses the little boy on the forehead and retreats out of his room. Her eyes subconsciously flickering to his window before closing the door. For a moment she was more thankful that Toby did not remember.

She never bothered taking in the details of the house, because if she did, it would make her sad. Sad with the fact that things change, and people are not the same any more.

But on the walk to her father's study, she finds all the little differences screaming at her from the walls and corners, and finds herself walking into her bedroom. For a moment she stands there, hand on the door knob, and feels a creeping feeling. It feels like someone's in her room. She turns the knob and yanks the door open to find the hollow spaces crying back at her. Its just the study, no one is there. 

The room had been remodeled into a study for her father, and all she had to sleep on a small twin sized cot on the floor. She stands studying the room for a moment, taking in the lawyer books frequenting the many book shelves. Taking in the mahogany desk that sat, facing the window, bare on the surface and probably never used. Richard only ever came home for food and a good nights sleep.

It makes her look down at herself, taking in the grass stains on the knees of her blue jeans. Taking in her worn sneakers, and her pale cream tank top that had a few muddy streaks. She couldn't be mad, she was happy to have Toby. That is all she had now in this world, but he didn't know the expanse of her sickness. He didn't know that sissy had made a big mistake with ditching the medicine. 

So she reminds herself of the better things. Of being happy to be outside playing, of watching Toby trip all over himself. The only thing that she found she was missing was her trusty sidekick. 

Her mind flashes back to a few years ago, when Merlin had gotten sick. She blames it on herself, on the complete lack of compassion of her father and her stepmother. Merlin had wondered off, never to come back. She had told Toby he had gone on a vacation, that he hadn't gone off to die. She should have told Toby the truth, she realizes as her nails bite into the palms of her hands.

She closes the door behind her and changes into a white poet shirt, accompanied with another pair of blue jeans. And then proceeds to sneak out of the window, climbing carefully in a way that only proves she had done it many times before.

She doesn't want to risk going through the living area, because she could feel the air of anger around her dad. And she didn't know if she could be polite enough to take a scolding.

* * *

 

 

She was sad, and he knew it. He could smell it on the air around her.

Her sadness mingles with the huskiness of the rain to come in the next few hours. If he concentrated hard enough, he could say that her sadness smells a lot like thunderstorms. Deep, energetic and angry. But pleasant, especially for someone fond of thunderstorms.

He stiffens uncomfortably against the branch as he, once again, catches himself thinking of anything other than killing her.

But how can help it? The conversation between them had not helped, at all. It had been so light and friendly, she had not a clue as to what he was truly there for, or the way that she made him feel. It had been so long since he had a...good conversation with someone, that after that he feel like he needed a shower.

She had made the hair on his arms stand up. Actually she was pretty frightening for a human girl, with the way she assessed the creature before her. What made her the most frightening of all was the mere fact of the king. THE KING, out of all people- had claimed to love her. After the fact though, no one ever saw it coming in the beginning. They all had just thought he'd grown bored living in that castle after all the years.

So, to even come between that was sure death, he was sure his head would be lopped off for even talking to her.

Besides she was just so damned _sad_ , he had loved many cursed with sadness in the past, but she was a puzzle. She was the labyrinth in human form. He assumed that is why the King was so infatuated. _If_ he was still infatuated.

Rolan followed her all the way to where it all began, he knew because it was recorded in the books. Sarah Williams : the only other champion of the Labyrinth itself- other than Jareth.

So, he watches from his perch on a cozy limb of an old hollow oak tree, the breeze from the storm brewing, softly threading throughout it's branches. Sending the hanging moss and leaves dancing.

The energy from the ancient tree itself relaxes him, allows him to soak in it's lovely story of hundreds of years of life. But he had become too relaxed for what he was about to do, so he sits up, grabbing his dagger from his side in an attempt to keep himself awake.

It had been hard finding her through the portals, even harder with using the amount of magic to come through the damned things. Centuries of being in prison would do that; make him sloppy. .

Lilith's coaxing unearths itself in memory within his brain as he picks his nails with his dagger, eyes watching her make her way into the clearing. She looks around, searching for something, and he suddenly glad hes cloaked.

She walks up to the tree, her hand caressing it's bark as she dips her hand into the open maw of the tree with her other hand.

"Where are you." Her voice bubbles up out of her as her arm stays within the tree's trunk. It makes him forward, only slightly, to watch what she is doing. He keeps himself from moving entirely.

She then, surprising him, pulls out a small red leather book. The very small red leather book that had been left there all those years ago. He wonders, for a moment, if she had hid it there before she left for school. Or, if she tried to return it back to the spot to where she found it all those years ago...before Jareth got ahold of her.

The smell of something drifts up to his fae nose: guilt. Guilt, and _sickness_. She looks perfectly fine, and he had not smelled it on her the last time he had seen her.

It makes him watch her more closely, at the subtle stumble of her feet. She looked normal and yet he noted how tired she acted, how she would stop and take frequent breaks from walking.

Suddenly, another energy fizzed in range, and he felt something else entirely. Something had waltz into the area that people would often call a park. It makes him glance around the branches, his spectacular eyesight detecting no other humans, but something feels off. After wiping the dagger on his black baggy pants, and righting it in his hand, he picks himself up into a crouch position on the branch.

The wind had picked up more, and a distant rumble echoing off in the distance. The air itself took a turn for the tense, coiling so tight with intensity he swore he could cut a slice out of it and eat it for desert. He loves tension. He loves a fight, and he loves the fact that there was another fae present, because that meant he could see why the hell it was eavesdropping.

With one glance at the girl, who sat on the bench, flipping through the surprisingly still intact red booklet. He lets himself become one with the tree as he waits.

And that's when he sees it, the owl, perching upon a limb nearby. It's coat an uncomfortable pearly white.

 


	5. Chapter 5

At first his body springs in for attack, but he thinks again. Instead leaning against the branch as he watches the foul thing preen it's feathers. All normal, but it wasn't. Not in the way it watches the girl.

He is suddenly more thankful for the disguise he has on himself, because he wants to stay hidden long enough to figure out what was going on. Even though he knows it could sense him just as he senses it. But it does not seem to be acting out on the notion to find him, which makes him all the more curious.

He gazes at the girl sitting on the bench, her hair blowing in the wind, and a deep gurgle of thunder shatters through the sky.

What to do, what to do.

Relaxing his muscles as he listens to the rustle of the trees, listening to the clicking of ants climbing the limbs next to him, of the old ducks whistling as they fly overhead.

The owl stills, it's feathers ruffling up with the wind.

Its a fae, hes sure of it, and he watches with every fiber of his being. It's head twitches to his direction. Seeing but not seeing. It knows something else is here, but it does not know who.

The action makes his blood boil, because he knows it's an assassin. An assassin that doesn't bother with concealing itself. What a stupid move.

The air churns, and the owl is unfurling, leaving small feathers floating around the air where it had been‚ as it swoops off of it's perch.

And within seconds he is reliving the moments of yesterday.

**_"What are you looking at?" Her voice was a silver bullet as she hit him with malice, if her eyes were a weapon- he would've been dead._ **

**_"You."_ **

Hes on the ground within seconds, limbs pumping as he races for Sarah who sits stupidly unaware of the danger that lurks.

But he gets to her in time, making her squeal as he shoves her back behind his body. He'd made it just in time by the feeling of  the curve of a blade inches from the skin of his jaw.

* * *

 

 

Something is on top of her, grasping the book out of her hands and using it as a shield as a blade comes down, out of no where, with a sickening crunch. Its happening so quickly she blinks with nausea, her mouth ripped open in a silent scream of surprise.

The person on top of her, a man, is literally shielding her body with his own before he is pushing away. A low growl humming in the absence from where he had been, and it ripples through the tension of the air.

The threat, something she is having trouble seeing through pure panic, hisses. Thunder rolls, and a flash of lightning buts through the sky.

For a second everything stands still, but it snaps. Shattering the tense like breaking an elastic band.

A blur of limbs, a hulking form and a much more slender form, rips at one another. Both caught up in the soft drizzle of the rain that begins to haze the air in a sideways swooping motion.  The figures fight one another, resembling something like a bad dogfight, and she doesn't know what to do as she sits watching. Catching a brief moment as her protector looks back for a split second. His bright eyes echoing through her mind.

_Rolan._

It makes her tremble, watching the bulking form of the stranger from yesterday yank the smaller creature by its neck out of thin air. His hands on either side of it's face in a look like a lover's caress before a dagger embeds itself into the underside of the adversary's jaw. Splintering through the skull with a cracking noise. It happens so quickly, that shes not prepared for the amount of brutality that singes the air, and ends up puking right off the side of the bench seat. The rain pelts down harder in reaction. 

Lightning pulses once again, and the sound of the dagger being unsheathed from the bone scratches through her mind. 

She is having trouble processing what shes seen, and pulls herself back into a sitting position before shes looking out across the park to the man assessing the figure in his arms. It was a woman, dressed in black attire from head to toe. Her hair buzzed close to her hair in lilac waves. 

Rolan drops the woman like she burned him, and quickly stalks over to Sarah. His face alive with blood and feral glee.

"Are you okay?" His voice calls through the rain, and he stops a few feet from her, wiping his dagger on his pants leg before sheathing it on his hip. She just watches him for a few moments, trying to figure out what was different about him.

He was also clothed from head to toe in dark attire, with weapons of all different shapes and sizes hidden underneath the bulk of a deep clad leather jacket that made a soft tapping noise from the rain. He stands watching her, carefully, his jaw rolling in a habit that she could assume was anxiety.

"Rolan?" She found her voice, and sees his eyes lit up. The hunger from the fight suddenly gone into something more graceful. Hidden behind the mask she had seen the day before.

 "Raven." A correction files through him, his eyes flickering from her and to the woman a few feet away. As if to make sure she was truly dead.

"Can you please tell me...what the Hell is happening?" 

"Didn't your parents ever tell you to never talk to strangers?" Hes back to looking at her, too close for comfort, his form broad and the brown of his hair clings to his jaw from being unraveled in the fight. The blood that was once on his face runs from the drizzle of rain. 

."I think I deserve a right to know whats going on, why are you here? Who are you?" She finds herself standing, arms wrapping around herself in an act to shield herself. He keeps looking around, probably making sure no one else had witnessed the onslaught.

"I think I deserve a _thank you for saving my life_ , and an apology." He snips, growling irritably underneath his breath, and crosses his arms.

"I am appreciative, you asshole, for saving my life. I am sorry I was so quick to question your authority." Why was he being so mean? He continues to bristle at every word she has spoken, and yet hes somehow bothered to save her life. But all of that stills when she watches his eyes flicker, a thin film encompassing his eye for a split second.

His eyes were impossibly clear blue, almost daring in the way that they expected her to run, which she had contemplated for a split second. 

"Well, I am..." His mouth opens and then closes as he tries to find words. "your bodyguard."

And then it all makes sense, the reason she keeps feeling like there is someone there watching. The look of etherealness hanging off of his features, which she assumes would change if he were to will it. Because its more obvious than ever that hes not from here, that she knew almost instantly.

"Did Jar-." Her strong voice stutters. "Did _he_ send you?"

"The Goblin King?" His scarred eyebrow curves questioningly, and hes shedding his jacket only to step forward and drap it around her.

The jacket Is warm which helps against the iciness of the rain.  "Yes."

"No. I was sent from..." the rain falls harder, "the labyrinth."  he grabs her arm, walking in the direction she had walked in from. 

"Wha-" She begins, but he cuts her off by shoving one of his massive fingers against her lips. "Lets get you back home before you catch a cold and I have to deal with the consequences of listening to you complain about it."

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "A safe fairyland is untrue to all worlds." J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit

A beautiful great horned owl perches, her vast brown eyes examining a small red booklet which glistens with a wound caused by a dagger. The owl stretches and lets out a yawn before she begins to preen. The day was beginning to set, along with the storm that had lasted only thirty minutes. Thirty minutes being long enough to hide the scent of the already withering away fae creature.

 _The champion is in danger._ The trees whisper on the wind, making the downy fuzz on the owl flutter. The owl cocks her head as she listens to the many voices echo the dangers untold. And with alarm she pulls her feathers tightly to her body as she allows the trees to continue their ancient language of gossip before she takes flight.

 _My king will not like this at all._ Her thoughts reprimand. Her instincts screaming at her as she spreads out her wings, dipping to grab the old testament from the damp grass. Her wise mind wraps around the many possibilities to come In the future. It only leads to her food curdling in her stomach, for she knows that as soon as The Goblin King knows of what happened: he would be out to collect the ones in charge.

 

* * *

 

"Get your things, we are leaving." His words are arrows through her heart as her eyes set fire to him. Her confusion settles within her stomach, and curdles into every range of emotion before settling on anger.

"Excuse me?" Is all that she can manage before hes grabbing everything she has and throwing it into her duffel bag. Shes thankful she hasn't unpacked anything, but still manages to cross her arms at the sight of his controlled rage.

His eyes glance at her, his jaw set. "We need to leave before your family is put in danger Sarah." With a quick motion, he jerks her black duffel bag onto his right shoulder and closes the distance between them. Eyes filling to the brim with unknown words. "They will be on their way."

"Who?" The question burns, her voice falters as it leaves her throat. All of a sudden she feels like she needs to scratch his eyes out, pull him apart limb by limb. Her fists clench, straining her untamed emotions that breed quickly underneath her skin.  
Its been too long since shes felt anything, and now she was sure she was going to explode from feeling too much.

"The assassins. They are after you. Lady Lilith of the underground is out for blood, and she does not play fair." He mutters, his massive hand grabbing her arm. The urgency in his eyes enough to make her step back, and away. He looks too much of an animal, too much like the woods at night.

His fae form is beginning to lose its human characteristics, and her eyes seem to be malfunctioning. Every moment or so his figure would blur and shift, and then his features would sharpen only to appear more... _more._ "I will discuss more, but not now. Not until you are safe."

"And you think that I will be safe with **_you?"_** Her lips curl in disgust, and the uncertainty of it all curdles in her stomach.

"Yes. Like I said before- I am your bodyguard." His voice is venom, and his hands twitch like they want to grab her. But shes thankful that hes gaining self control, even if his eyes are as blue as the hottest fire. "Do you want to stay here and risk all of the lives of your family? Sarah, I never thought you to be a coward, now grab onto me. Right now." His hand reaches towards her and she takes another step back. If it were possible to feel even more sick than she did minutes ago, now would be the time.

"Where are we going..." She grabs onto the nearest bookshelf and practices self control to keep from lashing out, or dropping dead from a heart attack. The word coward only pisses her off more the longer she stands there embracing the wooden grain of the bookshelf. 

"I don't have much power here aboveground, but I can get us away from the house and on our way to a portal so we can go underground. I am not as strong as I am up here as down below, plus... if you come home, the labyrinth will maybe find a way to heal again. Things are not doing well since you've been gone champion. Rather, everything has become hellish." She eyes him, aware of the sudden stillness that crosses his features, aware of the way he is good at manipulating.

She wondered what the Goblin King was doing. Was he okay? Did he know what was happening? Was she okay with the fact that she would be going back, getting one step closer to him? Goosebumps flutter across her skin and she sucks in a sharp breath, remembering the fact that he did not come to her. He did not bother saving her from herself.

So she reaches out and grabs Rolan's hand. Vaguely aware of the calm sensation that pulses through her when he grabs her. Shes safe. As safe as she could be when finding out her whole world was practically falling down around her- like in her dreams.

Without any further coaxing, she feels Rolan pull her to him. His entire being engulfing her small human form as he wraps the thick tree trunk arms around her. She does not bother looking up, or bothering to look into his eyes. No, instead she just buries her face into the fabric of his shirt, which is soft and canvas like against her face. He squeezes and she yelps loudly before hes chuckling.

"Humans.." And the air around them sucks in, popping loudly like every particle and atom shifts together and condenses. The pain is immediate, and her ears pop painfully. She feels hot- too hot- her blood boiling in her veins as she practically falls into him. What had happened, happened very quickly, some could say a blink of an eye. And she knew she would not be able to make it if it were to last any longer than that.

Pain reminds her too much of her sickness, but it reminds her that shes alive. _I will miss you Toby... I will come back for you someday._ Her mind sputters off track and confused, and her body aches as if she had a bad sunburn.

She blinks for a few moments, her eyes watering, as she clutchs at the fabric in front of her.

  
"Humans." The fabric rumbles underneath her fists, and she realizes just how tightly she held on. She stumbles back, jerking with surprise and something of shame, and yelps loudly again. Only to see Rolan smiling, painfully aware of the fact that everything is so new to her; it makes her hate him a little more.

One could say she hates him more than the King of Goblins. 

Her stomach rolls in on itself, and she stumbles to the side to vomit up what little she had left of breakfast this morning. It was always a never ending cycle of feeling bad, and she hates it.

"Come we are near a portal. It is sad that you do not have a forest near your home , and I am not risking your hide if we go back to the park. So this will have to do." He grabs her and pulls her along, his hand tight on her hands as they make their way to an abandoned warehouse.

Everything begins to swirl around her, tilting. "Hey." She could hear him whisper. "We are close, let's push through this, we can do it." His voice edges along, its deep baritone vibrating through her head.

"I don't think I can stay awake long enough. " She could hear her garbled words, they seem to muffle in her mind as she stumbles forward, the edges of her vision melting away. She was so tired, so very tired, and she hadn't taken her medicine.

 **_"It is normal for a person suffering from Glioma to experience nausea, vomiting, mild confusion, memory loss, difficulty with balance, and vision problems. You need to take these" The Doctor with round glasses smiled at her tear stained cheeks, as her father and stepmother stood nearby. Stripping her away with their eyes, acknowledging the fact that she had a brain tumor. Acknowledging the fact that she was doomed to die sooner than later. She nodded, taking the prescription paper, and looked down at her shoes. "Temozolomide will keep the tumor from growing any bigger, take it for five days every four weeks." The doctor began talking but_ ** **_his voice only seemed to fade to the back of her mind._ **

She shutters from the flashback, the memory implanted in her brain. And attempts to look ahead, her vision creating small flashes of color every so often. "Come on just a little further." She hears off in the distance, but feels a hand drag her forward.

She cant continue, no, she cant continue like this. Her feet tripping over one another as she begins to stumble forward. Shes going to fall- she knows it, but falling is okay. To be able to sleep would be very nice. Wasn't this all a dream anyways?

Big arms encase her, pressing her into a warm embrace, coaxing her into a world of sleep and the abyss.

 

* * *

 

The castle was teeth and claws as it stood tall and proud. The castle's fortress juts out of the side of the mountain that it had been built out of, like a sore thumb.

An owl fights against the harsh winds of an acid storm brewing. Her frail form flipping this way and that as she flaps harder, trying to beat the acid droplets that would be sure to burn. The storms were more frequent than they use to be, and she blames it on the human girl that had broken the king's heart.

A large cracking sound engulfs the air and she screeches, her wings burning with the sheer force of fighting the wind. Things take a turn for the worse as the air dampens into a deep acidic metallic, burning her nostrils and blurring her vision.

The small booklet and dagger in her claws seems to burden her, but she holds onto them anyways. Never acknowledging their weight unless if she has to duck and dive.

The world around her turned into hues of vermillion and infection, the clouds onyx burdens blanketing the sky. Any second now and she knows she would be melted into nothing more than ash.

Which is why whenever she flies into the open window of the throne room, she immediately seeks the shoulder of her beloved king. The king who happens to be perched on his throne of iridescent marble. The king whose eyes are two daggers digging into her as she drops the booklet and dagger at his feet.

" _Esmerelda, my favorite bird, what have you gifted me today?"_

* * *

 

  
_13 days_

Something is wrong. Sarah knows something is wrong as soon her eyes flutter open. Everything is dark, so dark that it takes a moment for her to register the sounds.

The soft trickle of water is the first thing she recognizes as she lies perfectly still. Her head letting out tiny ripples of pain to remind her its still functioning properly.

The second thing she senses is the dampness of her surroundings which hangs like humidity in the air.

Third is the smell of overly ripe roses which burns her nose with their decaying scents; and lastly the soft sound of snoring which stops almost as abruptly as she recognizes it. A scratching sound flutters around her, before a throaty voice pierces the air.

"Sarah?"

Rolan's voice is the only thing that keeps her from losing her head in the moment..

"R... Rolan, where are we- what happened?" Her voice is so weak. As she feels around the darkness, but only can feel the ground scraping up underneath her fingernails. It feels like rocks - like they were lying on a bunch of rocks. She stifles a low moan of pain, her back popping too many times to count as she pulls herself up into sitting position.

"Shhhh. Do not move much- I will come to you." His baritone becomes unusually light, it carries on as if it were the wind. "We do not want them to hear us..."

 _Hear us?_ Her mind panics immediately, and she grapples at anything to ground her, which happens to be the minerals underneath her. It only exceeds with making her more claustrophobic, so much so that she can hear her pulse in her ears beating wildly. Reminding her that she's actually alive, actually awake.

There was a shuffling sound, and then the slightest touch of the arm. Rolan's voice floats to her as he moves closer. "I am going to give you the faerie sight, so you can see...We are underground. We can only talk in whispers for now, until you gain enough strength for us to venture out. Which we might get unlucky and have to move sooner than later..." She can feel his hands on her face, and her instincts instantly make her flinch away. There is a soft huff of breath, and she feels his fingertips roam her facial structure. "Do you still trust me?"

"I suppose so..." Was all she could gather as she leans forward, wondering how one could possibly gain the eyesight of the faeries. There was silence before his hands dissapear, and then reappear right by her face. His lips were close to her ear.

"Drink exactly four gulps, nothing more, nothing less. Do not mind the taste." She could smell berries, sweet suffocating berries. It makes her lean forward, and connect with something- his wrist. The warm flesh of his arm makes her draw back- frightened.

"You want me to drink your blood? I'm not a vampire."

"Then you will pay the price of being blind to everything here. If you want the alternative, I can -just spit in your face. It is more painful that way, but I would be gla-"

"Fine, but I swear if you are doing this just to...to spite me then I will-" She grumbles  biting into his wrist and gagging as she begins  to drink. Teeth sink into the dip of his flesh where a wound has been cut, and the first lap at the blood makes her mouth burn. Its sharp and acidic and it swells her tongue in a way that produces too much saliva. But by By the third gulp the acidic taste disappears into a deep velvet warmth that spreads throughout her body, and by the fourth gulp the taste of berries is everything and more. If she could drink it forever she would, it hones in on her awareness and makes her skin itch and tighten. Its so vaguely lovely that it becomes almost too painful.

"That's enough." A growl and a warning and shes being ripped away with such force her body sings with discomfort. 

"Why is it so wonderful yet so excruciating." The pain seeps in, hot and overbearing as it lingers at her nervous system and makes her feel as if she's been boiled alive. It jump starts her heart, and she moans at the sudden alien attack of panic. She pants suddenly, sweating as her fingertips find their way to the flesh of her arms, more so checking to see if shes not on fire; that shes not just a wick of a candle burning away into nothing. 

"Well, a lot of people do not survive this process." His voice much too loud now, cuts at her ears, and she jerks away from the exposure. "but you seem to be holding out much longer than I thought. You are _the_ champion after all."

"I hate you." Her voice hisses involuntarily, and she can feel the bubbling within accompany the vulgar buzz in the back of her skull. It sends her over, startling her into a rippling shock of foam and spit, and a pain so raw that flashes through her brain in wavelengths. She cannot stop it, this shaking, and realizes before she sinks into the chaos that its her first seizure in years. 

It rolls on in slow motion as the electrical storm underneath her skin attaches itself and roots itself deep into her blood and bones. It feels like everything is breaking, rewiring, or just crumbling.

"I hate you too, but I am thoroughly sure we are stuck with one another for now." The baritone of his voice echoes faintly, and it ebbs like a ripple as her body begins to shut down from the over exposure. The darkness behind her eyelids lightens faintly, and she finds herself blinking awake. Tiny motes float within the air around them in the semi darkness, they dance in front of her face and swirl playfully as she pulls herself to a sitting position. The darkness was not, in fact, darkness. No, instead there is a faint light shining through the thin membrane of the tunnel walls. A soft blue that swirls and climbs like smoke through the membrane, before shifting and molding. It reminds her, for a moment as she is stuck staring, of a lava lamp. Its alive. 

She sucks in a sharp breath, lungs splintering from all of the action, and casually wipes off the blood and spit from her lips before assessing the man across from her. She hopes that he can see how much she really hates him about right now. Instead she sees that her duffle bag didn't make it in through the portal, and mourns the loss of fresh clothes and supplies. 

 _He looks different_. The voice within her mind reminds her, pulling her back from her thoughts and to the man across from her. "Why...why all of that to be able to just see better?"

"Ah." The man, creature- thing, speaks softly. As he shifts closer his long braids swirl around them as if underwater, and even with the soft light from their surroundings she can make out the different shades of umber and brown woven throughout his braids. "it affected your whole body- now you can feel, sense, smell, taste, and see things that an average mortal cannot. It is simply better than getting spit in the face, and you get four more advantages." His eyes glint within the darkness, predator like, and strange against the squared jawline that looks more human than she's expected. Its not as sharp as some of the creatures she remembers, and it's almost youthful. She leans closer and catches minerals embedded within pieces of his skin, they catch the soft glow and they sparkle like little diamonds. It looks funny on the warrior, and it makes her giggle softly. 

"It was extremely painful, thank you for warning me before hand...and" She quips, trying to forgive him as she scoots closer. The minerals of the cavern floor aren't as hard as they were, and she feels them dig into her knees as she maneuvers closer. 

She watches as he glitters more, and continues to whisper. "why are you glittering like that?"

"Ah. Champion." His eyes sharpen and glance down at this hands, knuckles sharp and reflective. If he was ashamed, she could not tell. "we are made of stardust, just as everything is. I usually don't shimmer like this, but living amongst these minerals for centuries kind of rubs off on you." His scarred eyebrow flicks up ever so slightly, and then his face drops into a stone expression before his head cocks to the side. 

A distant sound of scuffing echoed throughout the long tunnels surrounding them. She went to close her eyes to focus on the noise more clearly, and only finds herself flinching away from Rolan's grasp that digs into the flesh of her arms. "Listen Sarah, no more games, this is not the fairytale land you have come to love from your last adventure. I warn you now, and I must tell you" he pauses for a heartbeat, and the shuffling is much closer now than it had been moments before.

"We are underneath the labyrinth, and amongst creatures who rely entirely on sound. You have been asleep for thirteen days, and now that you have risen... we must move. Constantly. I am thankful that I don't have to carry you any more." He flashes a sad smile, and pulls her closer as his voice becomes nothing but lips against the shell of her ear. "I am taking you to an old friend of mine. She is a temptress of fate, and some like to call her death. She will tell us what to do from here. There is much to this than you know, and you are a bigger piece to this labyrinth than I have ever imagined.  
I am afraid of what is to become of you if you are left alone, feeble and sickly as you are." It makes the hair on the back of her neck stand, but she bites back the feeling of panic as the noise clicks so closely to their hiding area.

 ** _Do you smells that?_** **A** guttural clicking sound engulfs the air, and the most putrid smell burns through the scent of decaying roses.

**_Ahhhssss yes yes I smells it. I smells it- this way._ **

Sarah feels everything lock up in her body, and barely moves as Rolan yanks her along. They have to hide now, and the idea is more unbearable than anything she's had to go through as of yet. 

 _Why not just take me to the Goblin King?_ Her heart panics, along with her legs as they scurry away from the noise.

In the distance she can hear things whisper. Their hideous voices embedding themselves into her mind like the minerals that embed themselves into Rolan's olive skin.

"We are going to the nearby stream. Quiet now. I do not feel like fighting for my life, let alone yours. From now on we speak only by small gestures, and since you're human... try not to be so loud when you walk." He hisses, hand trailing out infront of them with a dagger that glints sharply against the blue glow of their surroundings. She's not ready, but she has to be. Her body aches from the chaos so far, and she wants to lie down for a moment to gather her strength. But she cannot, will not.

She goes to run her hand along the side of the cavern, wanting to feel it, when Rolan's hand rips it away and he shoots her a glare. "Sound." He mouths sharply, and she understands immediately. Spiders, they are like spiders. The membrane is alive, but like a web and if she focused really hard she could see shadows on the other side of the veils.

Things moving and clicking like hellish embodiments of nightmares. Begging them to make a mistake, begging them to fall weak and disabled. She wants to vomit again, but stifles it as she watches Rolan. She has to remind herself that he is her body guard, that he will take care of her if anything happens. But anything wont happen, because he's been here before- right?

A massive hand, the one with the dagger, rises in the air and they both pause before he cocks his head to the side. His braids, wooden, make an echoed sound that makes his long ears twitch with discomfort.  She knows with the way that he holds himself, that they are being followed. She just didn't want to find out what. 

With a slight turn of his head he glances back at her with a look of sadness. But it's enough.

They were going to be traveling all night. That is what his eyes told. That is what she assumed, and that's what her feeble bones screamed.

* * *

 


	7. Chapter 7

_Do you miss the city now?_ Her inner voice mocks. _It has been weeks since you've seen the sunlight. Since you've spoken out loud. Since you've eaten anything but the bugs off the walls. You smell horrible...you look horrible. Is this exactly what you asked for when you begged for the Goblin King to take you away? Is he here right now?_

_No. No. No._

She knows she is beginning to lose her mind within the semi darkness that has shifted and changed on their journey. Deep violets, violent reds, earthy greens, and poisonous looking yellows of membranes and minerals. None of which she understood or could remember from geology class. But they were in the Underground of all places, and she has to keep reminding herself that things aren't really the same any more. A movement ahead of her makes her still immediately, her muscles locking up stone tight like they've had to do before to hide. The creatures here, they do not have good eyesight, but that didn't mean that they weren't good hunters. Her tongue swipes at cracked lips as she watches him, his back muscles stretching and jumping within the darkness. The light had dropped off into almost pitch black, there was no beautiful crystals, and the smell of the earth was burning at her nostrils. 

But as they stopped, just for a moment, she could hear a faint bubbling of what she assumed was a stream. 

He glances back, his features barely visible within the shroud of darkness, and smiles so wide that it makes her heart jump frantically within her chest. It's a good sign, maybe- hopefully. 

In the first time in weeks she hears his voice, and it feels like the first time. It's almost strange that he speaks when they've almost perfected the communication through body language. 

"The stream is right along the corner. We bathe, and then we follow it. Lady Death is not far away." His voice crackles, and it is a fire that burns through her. Immediately she wants him to do it again. 

She's beginning to feel more sick and tired, but its a constant never ending exhaustion. They were constantly moving so much that there was no time to waste.  It was a constant battle with the things within the darkness. Hiding. More hiding. She had so many questions to ask, so many things she needed to know, but like always they would flitter from her mind as soon as they were there.

 _He doesn't want to shed blood, the things can smell us. Smell the blood._ Her head begins once again, keeping her company, making her lose it a little more. _That is why we are running, that is why we are in hiding. I am tired of hiding. I am tired of running, and being sick. Let me be strong._ Her knuckles do not ache any more, but she flinches anyways. Theyre scrapped clean with calluses and muscle that bleeds every time they walk. Though some caverns they are able to stand and walk freely, but through most they are spent having to crawl on all fours. 

She licks at her lips again, wanting some sort of water, but knows it would be wrong if she drank right now. The pain of having to use the bathroom along with the pain of running out too quickly only reminds her against the idea. But it was so hot, and the heat only got worse at nighttime. Its worse the more she thinks about it, like they've been cooking in a slow cooker for whatever nasty things that dwell in the dark. The only good thing that ever came out of it was being able to tell night from day. During the 'day-time' it was warm, warm enough to sweat constantly, but at 'night-time' the heat was beyond unnerving. It was no wonder she hadn't stripped down to nothing but her undergarments to continue on without dropping from a heat stroke.

The sound of a rushing stream fills her immediately, and her dry throat immediately screams with the need for something to drink. She'd drink anything other than what they've had to resort to at this point.

 _This will be so much better than the creepers_. She thinks to herself as the thought of the first time she had tried a creeper vine. The creeper vines were the only constant thing down here within the caverns, and they trailed around leading the way in twisting organic shapes of inky veins along the wall. She had thought they were poisonous until Rolan had stopped one day and cut a small incisor shape wound within the onyx flesh of the vine where It ranged to the thickness of her arms. He had turned to her, blinking in a way that said 'watch me' and placed himself so he drank only a few sips at a time. It was suppose to be easy, but it wasn't. Not when the first drop against her tongue sent her into vivid hallucinations for the next few hours. 

The hallucinations, at first, were horrific; and they never truly stopped even after the first time. In the beginning though, they were raw and nightmarish. Constantly sending her in vivid bursts of fear of bones being used as picks, and how the Goblin King would steal her away and eat her soul. The fear was so overwhelming that she would faint, and wake up to things eating at her legs. It had made her skittish, and often than not- accidentally hurt herself against the rock formations surrounding them. Now though, now it was only simple hallucinations. A Toby standing in an arch way motioning her to follow him, or a Merlin talking in languages she could not understand.

Rolan had watched with sympathy. Never touching her, never breaking the ongoing silence.

"Quick." Rolan's voice brings her back to the present as their surroundings subtly change before them. It opens up into a small valley cut within the rocks, and in the dead center a bright vivid blue stream gurgles angrily. 

It's such a sudden change that it burns at her retinas, and makes her cry silently. Her knuckles rubbing at her eyelids as if to erase the pain done to her eyes. 

He chuckles softly, still finding his voice within the huskiness, and cocks his head to listen. "We should be safe for now. The things here do not like water. Not this water for sure." He talks softly again, before sliding off of the deep brown of the bank and into the vivid water. "Don't stay in for too long, just long enough to wash yourself off. Don't even drink the water. It is not what you think it is." He does not bother removing his clothes as he begins to scrub at himself violently, hurrying at a pace that makes her flinch after so long of having to move silently and methodically. His eyes are closed as he dips underneath the liquid and comes up.

She knows she smells, from the constant sleeping and sweating, so she climbs in after him and hisses like an angry cat at the iciness of the water. It takes the air from her lungs as it numbs her legs and goes up to the height of her waist. She stands there, not bothering to really look down at herself but at the water instead. It is reflection-less. 

"Why can we not drink it?" Her voice comes in a croak, and it hurts. The blue water is opaque and silvery, but it looks tempting. Rolan is busying scrubbing his face with his hands, playing with the five o'clock shadow that never grows, before he offers her a sharp joker smile. 

"The stream itself is called The Tears of Lost Souls. If you die in it, it captures your soul, and you are to spend forever trapped within its beautiful depths. That is why it glows, it is a living breathing thing, it likes to be beautiful so it can trap its prey." His voice purrs like gravel under a tire. His hands go and splay out along the surface. "The water itself is Acidic. If you drink it, it will melt you from the inside out. Now, if you were to stay in it for longer than twenty minutes... it will eat your skin away. To be met with death at this point would be- torturous."  He's eyeing her as she looks at him with fear. He barks a laugh, it's loud- too loud, but he doesn't seem to mind as he glances back at the stream. Eyeing it like someone whose seen it for a large portion of their lives. She begins to scrub at herself, quickly assessing the areas that need it most, by turning away from Rolan. 

"Come on, we need to get moving." his voice whispers at the shell of her ear as she finishes, and she wonders briefly if he had watched her. A large hand splays over a large portion of her back and leads her to the bank on the other side. "it would be best if we went back to being silent, I do not want to push our luck. We are not very far away from the lady's chambers...Just.." He helps her up onto the bank, and doesn't say anything about the noise of the water cascading off of them dripping against the rocks. "Stay close, will you? I would not want to risk losing you to the things that are following us. " They begin to crawl in a new direction, and she offers a glance over her shoulder to the stream to find a set of yellow eyes on the other side of the bank.  

She says nothing but swallows dryly as they take an abrupt turn into an area that is suitable for walking. 

 

 

 

 

It feels like hours before they reach the opening of a giant room that is the size of a football stadium. It's covered entirely of roses with a scent so strong that it makes her eyes water.

She peaks from around Rolan through the maw of the room, trying to see more than the roses when his hand drags her behind him and he turns around. He seems more comfortable than he has so far, but it doesn't stop the white of his eyes telling her otherwise. His body tells her to stay close before his mouth does. 

" Stay close, and what ever you do...Do not. I repeat. Do NOT talk unless if you are asked. Be polite, do not bargain, do not let her mess with you. Okay?" He steps forward, and he's overly close as he bends down and presses his lips to the shell of her ear, and growls low in his throat. Making her jump.

 _I hate you_. Her inner voice promises, as his shoulders shake silently in quiet laughter.

He turns and disappears through the maw of the room, and she follows because there is no other way. It splits open into the stadium, with crimson roses that drip little red droplets that give them the appearance of bleeding. She allows herself the child like curiosity by glancing around, but keeps him in her sight at all costs. Watching for his demeanor to tell her other wise.

She finds interest in the dim lighting that hangs from the ceilings, at first she thinks it to be candles or lamps, but quickly understands that it is small creatures captured within little woven bundles. They flicker and chitter nosily like cicadas.  

Rolan growls softly, silencing the majority, as they pick their way over the black marble flooring before she realizes that Rolan is still speaking. His words come in the low whispering of another language that makes her skin crawl. 

They wind through the roses, when she notices that the walls around them are made of deep amethyst that shimmers beautifully when caught within the faerie light. It takes her mind away from the deep thrum of the flooring underneath her bare feet (she had ditched the shoes long ago). The throb of the floor reminds her of a heartbeat, and it unnerves her more than she gives it credit for. 

"Follow me." Rolan's voice reminds. "Don't stray".

So, she follows him into the low dip of the belly of the cavern, trying to ignore the sickening feeling of the rotting roses, and instead focuses on how the floor changes into engravings. Delicately mapping out the beginnings of a labyrinth engraved within marble, and where the ditches and valleys dipped there were dark pools of vermillion, she realizes she is looking at the map of something (maybe the tunnels?) underneath her feet. With a misstep her foot catches in one of the warm pools of liquid, and she cringes.

" ** _Rolan, I did not expect you to weasel your way back into my chambers. I had thought you grew tired of my bed_**." Voices, several, some small and some old sing in harmony from a figure that perches on the throne in the very middle of it all. She realizes, as she peeks from behind Rolan, that she is looking at Lady Death.

"Oh my love, you know I never grow tired of you." Rolan's voice purrs back, but the muscles in his back are tense. For a moment she wishes she could see his face, but decides against it as she takes root behind him; trying to stay out of the way like he had told her to do. 

 ** _"Ah, do not tease me child. I know why you have come, and I know that you know better than to beg me to release you from your exile. Four centuries should have taught you better than that_**." There is a clucking sound, and a the noise of the rose bushes trembling flutter through the air like a flock of birds. **_"No, you bring me a mortal girl. Our dearest champion, to be exact. Funny, out of all of the people of the underground. It is YOU, who has chosen to be responsible with the future of our Labyrinth. I do not know whether or not to grant your wish, or to damn you to the darkest pit of hell I have to offer."_** There is a cackle, and all voices drop away into just one smooth one. It sings of power, and its everything that she could have expected.

The silence bothers her, and she peaks from around Rolan again, only to meet the piercing eyes of the creature on the throne. They are too far away, but close enough and Sarah thinks she understands now. The woman is beautiful, naked with long pin-straight hair that spills like ink across her dark skin, the hair is so long it covers her modesty.

 ** _"Hello Champion of the Underground, capturer of hearts, breaker of rules, innocence to the world of darkness_**." Lady Death cracks open a smile, and it glints within the dim lighting of the cavern. She cocks her head, spilling long hair along her shoulders, her eyes twinkle like laborite stone from afar. Long boney fingers stretch outwards, coaxing Sarah forward with just a wave of the hand. It does something to her, wraps her in a daze that she forgets that she should be hiding. Why was she hiding?

She maneuvers her way from around her body guard, and walks forward. Feet feather light against the cold marble. From the corner of her eye she sees Rolan flinch angrily, hands going out as if to catch her from walking any further, but he falters.  If she could have pulled her gaze away from the temptress she would have seen the small vines that had wrapped themselves around Rolan's legs and arms, but she couldn't- she wouldn't dare. Sarah could only walk closer, as far as getting a few feet away from the destroyer of lives. **"You may call me Mortis, or Mor. I am assuming you do not know anything that is going on, you poor soul. I do thoroughly apologize for your traveling companion. He is broken.** " Up close the creature was devastating, her beauty aged into the sharpness of her cheeks, and the cut of her jaw. Her skin so dark and beautiful against the deep amethyst of the throne that she sat on. She was womanly, graced with curves, and built like what Sarah could only think Aphrodite would look like. 

Sarah wanted to lean forward, cup the woman's jaw, maybe even see what it was like to taste a little hell. Because how could hell be so beautiful? Why had Rolan been so against this?

Hungry fingers leave her side, and she reaches towards the creature in front of her. Her heart strings singing with curiosity and happiness to be so close to something so strange and enchanting. But there is a whine, a plea that leaves the sound of her body guard behind her, and it snaps her back to the present like a slap to the face. Her eyes widen, and fear claws its way up her throat. 

A venomous smile from the Lady of Death, and Sarah is sent into darkness. 

 

* * *

 

He knows its a mistake.

Bringing the girl all the way here to an old friend, lover, whoever the hell the woman- thing is to him. But its the only shot out of this exile, and its the only way he can get the girl from out of this hellish place. Especially now that he knows hes the only one that can take care of her; hes the only one that is responsible for her life.

Which is why his blood pressure rises the moment he sees Sarah in front of Mortis. Mortis who makes herself appeal to the human side of Sarah, by looking every part of an angel. 

 _An angel from hell._ His inner voice snorts, and pulls at the vines of the rose bushes holding him down, keeping him from acting irrational as the woman assesses the girl. Frankly it just pisses him off more than anything, but its not anything he can fix at the moment. 

It just burns, all of it. Especially when Mortis has the nerve of talking shit about him to the only thing that looks up to him. Apart of him even had gone as far as to ready for the karmic slap of justice; of Mor ripping into him about taking the girl and pretending to be something hes not. Hes thankful she doesn't, and even more thankful that Mor doesn't proceed with touching the girl, she just sniffs at her and snaps her to sleep. 

"She looks horrible Rolan." Mor fumes, her hand quivering in air as she lifts the girl up in levitation and eyes her hungrily. Her livid eyes go from watching the girl to looking into him, through him. Quickly, within a fraction, her human form transforms into the twirling bone of horns. She liquefies into herself, something he prefers far more than the human visage. Her wings hang limply down her back like a robe as she stands from her throne, moving the girl back a little to give her space to walk around her. 

"I know... but you know my limits. I cannot jump the portals like I use to... I'm exiled to... well- here." His eyes flicker around, trying to look at everything all at once and it makes him dizzy. Trying to ignore the thorns ripping out of him as the rose bushes slink away back to their preferred spots. He finds himself watching the Queen of the Damned with a new light, its been a while since he's seen her since she's vanquished him from her chambers; since he became too much for even her.

She was too busy looking the girl over, but it is obvious that she was aware of his watching. His attention makes her purr softly, and she stops her circling around the mortal girl. She doesnt bother touching her, and hes glad.  Mor had always been deadly, in the most beautiful way. Just like a rose, and yet her thorns are poisonous things. Once they took root within the soul, they never truly left. Though the longer he watched, the more he only found a rotten god who only plastered the beautiful image of someone important. His jaw rolls with uncertainty, what did he ever see in her?

His jaw sets. She laughs like she can read it off of him, and it makes him want to punch something.

"It feels like it had been a life time, and yet it has only been a century. Do you bore of the high fae's games? I know you bored of Lilith's rather quickly. I find it funny, a bounty hunter that kept his bounty." Her voice is soft, a bell. She waves a hand at the girl like she is bored already. "She will go and rest for however long she needs to. We need to discuss important matters, and consequences to which you owe." He can only bring himself to nod, knowing that no rest will come to him. Knowing that, with how much the demon loved to talk about herself, that he would be here for a while. 

"As long as she is safe, wherever you put her." He mumbles, eyes flickering from Mor to the girl. The girl he had not really looked at for weeks since their arrival to the underground. He notes how dirty she is, of the bones poking through the ripped fabric of her attire from weight loss, and the waxen glow of her skin that looks sickly underneath the faery lights. Shes all scraped up, poor thing, with nothing but sores that paint themselves across her pale skin. Her knees and fingers bleed in small tendrils down her legs. 

The girl didn't even look the same, just withered and frail. Tired and sick, and very very mortal. And the sickness? He could smell it now more than ever. It hung in the air like a disease.

Little does he know, that as he watches Sarah hang limply within the air.  That Mortis watches, head cocked, mind whirring inside her thick skull. He does not see the dryads step from their places hidden in the walls, their long arms and legs moving silently against the flooring. He finally notices them as they pluck the sleeping girl from the air, and take her away to the back room. He hopes to the mother rose, a healing apparatus that he would do anything to be able to curl up in, and not the old Bone tree. 

His eyes find Mortis's, and he takes in the Cheshire grin splitting her face. Shes up to something, he knows. "Eden will take good care of our champion." He nods, thankful. "You remember Eden, yes? My lovely Mother Rose." She takes a step towards him, wings dragging behind her loudly, and reaches out a hand; extra joints clicking in her long fingers. "She has been here even before I, how funny...my heart. My mother." He finds himself kneeling, knowing what she wants.

Her words drip with menace as her hand curves along his jaw, softly at first, before nails sink into the flesh of his cheeks. A loud groan pulses through him, its painful, her lapping at his essence like a kitten lapping at milk. She's reading him, and he hates it, but it has to be done for the sake of the girl. 

Once upon a time he had loved the feeling of her clawing at him, of the bite of her sapping at his life. Like a lunatic in love, he had thought it was what love felt like, but no more.  She was holding back, thankfully, but this had nothing to do with their old affairs.  

He can feel himself hiss in pain, but cuts it back by biting his tongue. Drawing out the coppery tang of blood. There were consequences to his actions. He knows it was a big mistake to take the girl. Apart of him wants to shame himself, to damn himself to hell, but he cant bring himself to. He couldn't give the girl up, not unless if he was dead and someone had to pry her from his cold dead hands. She was his responsibility now, his mistake to carry forward. Not until his very life source was sucked away and eaten by the very creature that stood in front of him. He feels her filing through his mind like its nothing but a few pages. Its not everything, there are some things that even he can hide from Lady Death. Things that lie deep underneath his skin in places she would not know where to look. 

"Once upon a time, I use to believe that I had fallen in love with the most brutal assassin. As cunning as a raven, as cruel as the deepest parts of my soul. I use to look back on our times with such fondness, Rolan, but you betrayed me. You betrayed me by slaying my beast. My child. Rolan, even I am not that cruel. Which brings me to consider...what are you willing to give, for the safety of that human girl." Mortis's soft voice turns bitter like ash, and he feels the nails dig further into his flesh, making him bleed a little down his face. He knows what she wants, and so he gives it freely. His past self unlinks from it's cage, and he snarls angrily. Wishing the past would just be let go, wishing that everything could be forgotten. But vengeful gods do not forget. 

"My lady, do you not think that I did not question myself after killing your child? That I did not know of the jealously that had bred its way deep within me? You told me nothing of your child, Morr...you told me nothing of your king. You only played me like I was apart of your game. You made me think that your beloved was only a suitor, that your child was a victim of rape." His voice drops as he speaks in the language of the dead.  Its for her, and her only as it tears through his throat. Her claws leave his cheeks and go for the throat, and he lets her because there is no other way. Shes tearing into his head now, taking things freely like they were meant for her. "I was exiled here because of you, and I will leave this place for you. I know you tire of my presence, I know you tire of my murdering of your delinquents. This girl....This girl means more to me than you know. She is the key to this Labyrinth, you know this- I know this. You cannot kill her because of me, because of my games. I am willing to strike up a bargain with you Mortis, whatever it is...all I ask of you is for me to find the truth in her return. To get her to where she needs to be, whether it is the very heart of the Labyrinth, or to the King. I need you to work with me, help me keep her safe...help me find out my next mission." Hes begging, and he hates it but its the only way. He cannot give her what she wants. He is not The Raven any more, he is just a man broken and hollow.  Through his hazy vision he sees the inky depths, of the devil, of hell. Of everything he had never feared before, but now fears out of the fact that he has a reason. 

"I will tell you of what you need to do, I will help you. I will treat her sickness as much as I can, I will make sure her health is returned and that you will be granted return to the underground. My bargain, my only rule." He hesitates, and it makes him shutter because she never anticipates. Has she seen something of his future? Chills pebble across his skin. "My only rule...Do not fall inlove with the mortal girl for if you do, then I will find a way to drag your filth down to the very depths of my hell...and I will eat your putrid heart."

His eyebrows shoot up with surprise as he flinches away from her with shock. What? That is all? He laughs loudly, the air in his lungs burning. He could never love the girl.  He continues to laugh as if his life were to depend on it, and it does. "Tell me of what I must do Woman, for I could never love her...She is not mine to love. I do not _love."_

"Then our deal is set, and you are free, and I will tell you what is in the mere future."


	8. Chapter 8

A small goblin teeters its way down the hallway, it's tiny heart ricocheting off of the walls within its chest. He looks this way and that, as he comes to the throne door, his hand pausing midair just a foot shorter than the door handle. Then a wave of power surges from within, wracking the walls and shuttering the castle like a sob. Jareth's angry masses chant like a mantra from within, seeping along the edges as his power practically trembles every surface of palace. "It is probably not safe to go In there." The goblin gums to itself, a bit of spittle oozing from the corners of its toothless face. He feels his tiny heart bouncing off of the bones in his chest.

The goblin swiftly turns around on its lanky legs and makes its way back to the kitchens, let him not be the messenger for the food today. He would rather die than face the king himself. The king who had been filled with a fiery rage for the past month. The King who had let the order of things slip, and now everyone and everything was back to their true forms. The forms that The King had taken the time to build for the mortal girl, so she would not be so scared. So she would not be so reluctant to join him in this desolate place. Nameless thought it was better she had chosen to leave, but then again the king had been nicer when she was here. He felt confused and scratches at his scaly scalp.

There had been more than enough talk around the palace of the girl going missing. Taken. Everyone was talking of her being taken. Some even made a point to believe their champion was dead, deader than dead, but in the very pits of Mor.

Nameless shivers to himself as he recollects the stories his life creators had told him. _"Do as you are told, or you will be sworn to accompany the savages of Mor. Would you like to be tortured on end???HMMMM?????"_ His birthers had giggled then they would take the extra step by jabbing at the poor lads eyes. Nameless always thinks fondly of that memory, and rubs at his left eye socket, a clumsy smile finding a way to his lips. He thinks, just as another wave of power gallops throughout the palace, of what it would be like to be in the pits underneath the Labyrinth.

"Death would be much nicer than dealing with the king, I am sure of it." His words file out in gibberish as he continues talking to himself. Quickly he finds his way back into the kitchens. Thankful for the sweet smell of fresh food that wafts into his face as he thumbs at the door handle.

* * *

 

_She dreams of a king. A king unlike the king she usually dreamt of. A king who hides from the cries of a newborn child, and a woman who he had once loved._

_But knew now that it was a mistake; it was all a mistake. Even though he loved his son, and his mistress he could only see a future of ruin._

_A future where he lost his mind, his wit... and his money._

_She watches from afar as this king with long bone white hair paced. His unsettling blue eyes burning with fury, as his hands twitch and his legs pace._

  
_"No. I do not want to be your king. Stop it. Do not say that." The man hisses under his breath, his eyes flickering to and fro. He looks to be raving mad, and the louder the baby cries in the other room... the more and more he seems to lose his mind._

_He continues to talk to nothing, his hands running through his hair, his jaw muscles jumping underneath his pale skin. "I am already a king- you fools!!" He growls , his thick eyebrows furrowing as he collapses on a nearby chair. She could not make of the words that tumble out of his mouth as he begins to rant to himself._

_The baby wails, it's blood curling cries piercing even her mind as she watches in a daze. She is floating amongst the air, her body apart of the room- her mind a swirl of emotion and thought. She does not need to glance around the room to figure out that the room was modeled in the eighteen hundreds. Or that it is, in fact, the eighteen hundreds. Why so long ago? She thinks as she narrowed her eyes._

_The king gets up, pulling her alongside him by a unseen thread as he disappears into his son's room. It all happens in a flash as his hands grip the cradle, the throaty burden of the words she knows all too well shot through the air._

_"TAKE HIM! TAKE HIM FOR YOUR KING. I BEG OF YOU." He growls to the air, "I wish for him to be your king. Your goblin king." His voice makes her angry, makes her want to cry as she watches him pick up his child as if it is nothing but a mere stuffed animal._

_The baby screams louder, his face a shade of purple, his fluffy blonde hair sticking out from all sides of his head like a cotton ball. He looks like a baby dandelion, an angry dandelion at that._

_"I don't want this pitiful thing. Take it away from me, get it AWAY FROM ME!!!" The king grips the child from under his arms, his fingers sure to bruise the baby's fragile skin. "You are nothing but a mutt. Your mother is the whore in which I regret bedding with..." the king seems to spit, to chastise the baby._

_Sarah feels the tears slipping from her eyes as she trembles. She wants to run and take the baby, to hold him close to her. To love him, and to never tell him who his father is, or why he has lost his mind so._   
_But as_ _soon as she steps forward, the baby grows quiet and his milky blue eyes look into the king's. His purple face holding such sadness, as if it were possible to understand his father's words._

_"I wish for the goblins to take Jareth away." The king signs, as if the voices he had supposedly grew tired of, have only exhausted him further._

_Time slowly crawls to a stop, and a rattling begins to reverberate through the room. A ripple shakes through the vanity in the corner of the room, and something begins to claw it's way out of it. Mangled limbs of creaking bones and snapping joints. It's a mess, and it's so entirely frightening that she seizes up as she watches the mirror birth a creature.  Its a creature she has never seen before, or even imagined before, as it adjusts itself within the room. Long needle like antlers curve from it's head, twirling high and twisting like a bramble crown. It stands taller than anything she's ever seen before, and blinks within the dimly lit room, with milky white eyes that glow with ethereal malice._  
_"Give me the child." The creatures voice grapples through her, sounding like the creaking boards of a sinking ship. It's barely recognizable, but she understands either way as she watches with complete horror as the King hands the baby over. Thrusting it out for a monster to take it like it was nothing but a satchel of coins._  
  
 _The creature, the long she stares she begins to recognize odd quarks, has the face of an owl. Wild large eyes that swallow up it's face that stretches down to a cracked beak and into the mouth of a man which twitches. The owl (she calls him) is dressed in black robes that hang off of him in cobwebs and dust. As old as time. It is swallowed up in small trinkets and clocks that hang from it's antlers and neck in chains, and the ticking sound of harmonized pocket watches makes her skin crawl.. The smell of old dead leaves and bog filters through the room as the beast takes the child and lifts it up into the air. Assessing it delicately with long talons that curve around the pale flesh of the little boy, who stares down at the creature with wild wide eyes._

_For a moment she thinks she sees a look of forlorn filter through the creature's eyes._

_The king leaves the room, but she doesnt turn to watch as she watches the Owl look up. Finding her eyes with it's._

_And it smiles, mouth opening wide, revealing rows upon rows up broken glass and stone that could serve something vaguely similar to teeth._

 

  
  


 

 **_"Poor pitiful creature."_ ** _A voice peppers kisses up her spine, as her surroundings change around her._

  
_A soft glow illuminates from around her like a foggy autumn morning. Everything is hollow in this world of grey and fog, but if she focuses hard enough she can see shapes move out of the corner of her eye. Like little goblins scampering this way and that._

  
_That's when she feels it, the soft feather like kisses upon her neck, leaving chills in their wake, and delicately soft fingertips caressing the flesh of her arms that lay bare in the cool atmosphere._

  
**_"Sarah, darling. Come home to me. Lend me evidence of your existence. I need to know you're alive... I need to know that you're not a dream."_** _His voice drips with uncertainty, and it sounds like he is begging as his lips find her jaw. Stiffening her spine. She feels a sharp pain as something dips into the flesh of her neck, and jolts from the warmth of something trickling down her neck.. She lifts her fingertips to the warmth and pulls away to see the splash of vivid red against pale flesh. Shes bleeding._

_**"I need to know this is not a dream.** "_

_"Was this a memory? Or a dream?" Her voice trembles now, recalling the baby's name being Jareth. Recalling the fact Jareth looks a lot like the king, the father, who had willingly given his baby away. Her heart reaches out for the baby, the very baby that was raised by monsters. Her mind races as she tries to forget shes bleeding, and focuses on the light fondling of fingertips against her waist and back._

_**"Tell me where you are Sarah. Let me save you, let me be the hero for once."** The amount of emotion in his voice chips away at her heart, at her mind. She has so many questions, and apart of her wants to call out to him of why he had not listened to her calling. Why he had not come to save her. But she bites her tongue. _

" _You're not a hero, Jareth. And for your information, I do not know where I am." She tries to project as much venom in her voice as possible. Pushing herself away from the shadows, twirling around in circles as her green eyes search for the Goblin King. She's never heard him sound so human before, and even though this is a dream; it makes her more weary._

_The fog thickens and rolls around her and there is no longer a trace of her Goblin, no it is only the singing of children off into the distance._

 

 

_**"Ich liebe dich,_

_mich reizt deine schone Gestalt;_

_Und bist du nicht willig,_

_So brauch ich Gewalt.“_

_Mein Vater, mein Vater,_

_jetzt fasst er mich an!_

_Erlkonig hat mir_

_Ein Leids getan!"_

 

_She grasps at the air ,her fingers clawing at nothing as she searches through the fog for him. For mismatched eyes in the ever growing darkness. The mantra of childlike singing began to grow, stinging her ears, making her heart break ever so slowly within her chest._

_**He** isn't there, no, all that remained was a heavy silence._

_The silence and the soft purring sound taunting her out of her dreamscape._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * " I love  you, your comeliness charms me, my boy! And if you're not willing, my force I'll employ.Now father, now father, he's seizing my arm. Elf-king has done me a cruel harm" -Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s “Erlkönig”


	9. Chapter 9

Water. Everywhere.

It encases her, enveloping her with a womblike substance that is thick like molasses. Her breath rumbles out of her just as she realizes a soft tube funnels into her mouth and down the back of her throat. It's slippery and reminds her of the umbilical chord she had to witness from one of those puberty programs at school, but she assumes it's the only way she can breathe by the way it stretches comfortably with small tendons around her jaw and into her nostrils. Its a strange breathing apparatus, and she grasps it with her hands while her eyes adjust to the strange texture of the water surrounding her. 

Within the darkness, a soft red glow throbs to the sound of a heart beat; it is slow and it's melody lulls her into a state of comfort that wouldn't be there if she weren't hooked up. 

The humming sound reminds her vaguely of her mother, before she had left her behind; back when she use to sing her soft lullabies before bedtime. 

She tries to bring herself from the odd trance by focusing in on the dream, focusing in on the last traces of a baby held within the massive claws of a creature. Maybe it was a glimpse, maybe not. Whatever it was though, it pulls at the deepest part of her and makes her brain whirl curiously. 

Something pulses around her, shaking her back to the present as she floats aimlessly within her little capsule in another world. Its calming here, and a part of her wants to stay curled up in a ball breathing in the air from the tubing system. The air tastes funny at the back of her throat, and she grunts a little at the resemblance of what could maybe be the equivalent to happy gas from the dentist's office. 

Something jolts the membrane, and a dark hand splays on the other side of the thick membrane of the red veins of her haven. It startles her to move, just a little, straightening her spine out from the fetal position within to water to get a better look at the intrusion. The hand stays, pitch black, and she swims towards it through the thick mucus material; gliding close enough to place her right hand against the hand on the other side. The moment sways, the tubes make a popping sensation in the back of her throat, and she gags as they dislodge themselves.

It bothers her, and the feeling of being whole quickly dissipates into a foreign feeling of intense aloneness. 

The hand quivers on the other side of the membrane, and she watches with shocked horror as the hand clips through and grabs her. Pulling her abruptly from her shell of comfort and through the thin membrane of fine silk and cold air.

She is born from the soft embrace of a haven she mourns almost immediately, and cries as soon as her body crumbles against the cold marbled floor. It's painful, and the raw air burns at her lungs.

She lies splayed out against the wet marble, her body trembling at the over exposure of being completely bare.

"Reborn again." A voice drifts to her ears, its too loud and she flinches at the alien quality. 

The room is shrouded within darkness other than the soft red glow that filters through the spaces. With a hesitant glance over the shoulder, Sarah recognizes with avid interest that she has been, quite literally, born from a rose. The deep crimson petals nearest her flex and mold back into one velvet petal that tightens around the rest of the body, it hums softly, trembling with life. 

"Wha?" The noise escapes her throat like a soft whimper as she clutches at the remnants of the discharge around her. It sticks with film and smells like blood.

"Sarah, darling, meet Eden- my heart. Literally." A woman hums from the shadows, and she jerks to face the direction. Everything is so confusing, so hazy. Why can she not be back inside of the haven, where she was safe?

"Mor??" But it dawns on her, soon enough, that she is back in reality. That the woman who creeps from the shadows is the mere host that Rolan had adamantly warned her about. It is just her that files through the darkness and to Sarah's quivering form, and it makes her heart rattle within her chest. Something in the back of her skull screams to run, to get away. That the two of them should not be alone together. 

"You were not literally reborn, you are still the person that was brought to me. You still possess your sickness, and you still possess your mortality. Sadly, I cannot fix you...but I can mend you, my dear, and I can send you on your way." 

She licks at her lips, and pulls herself to a sitting position. Her arms subconsciously pulling around her knees that come to her chest. She is so naked, and it makes her uncomfortable underneath the woman's dark gaze. 

"Where is Rolan?" Her mind whirs, and she bites her tongue as she realizes it has spoken out loud.

A smile carves it's way over the woman's face, but it is not a friendly smile. Anything other in fact. "He is resting. He heals much faster than you mortals...so he did not need Eden's help. Eden, as you know, has the power to heal you. She is all the good things, that I am not. She is my heart, my mother...the only thing I will bow down to. She has birthed me, and damned me all at the same time."

"Is she a god?"

"Some would argue that point, but yes."

"Then...I appreciate the fact that you...allowed her to heal me." Her voice rumbles on, surprising her. It's very unlike her (or use to be) to speak so freely to strangers. After coming back after all those years ago, taught her to keep her mouth shut. 

"Ah, if it were up to me. You would be dead." The creature, within a blink of an eye, drops to her knees. They crack against the marbled floor, and brings a sudden yelp of surprise tearing through her as the woman crawls on her hands and knees towards her. She comes into the light, and the red glow reflects against the dark skin. It glitters softly within the low light, but it doesn't change the hunger that passes over it's delicate features. Sarah inches backwards, legs and behind scraping against the floor that slides easily against her skin. She is still covered in whatever the Rose produces, and it makes her sickened for a moment as her back presses against one of it's petals. "but, your traveling companion made a bargain. One that I am eager to see him keep. He is the reason you are safe, and alive. Thank him."

"Are you not afraid of The Goblin King?" Sarah squirms as the woman crawls nearer, and watches as Morr sits back on her legs with her head cocked. The look on her face drips from hunger into a curious look. Eyes blink slowly, they glint red with reflection.  "I am sure...he would be very angry if you were to kill me." And then she is laughing, loud and bubbling like a mountain stream.

Mor is amused, but Sarah is not as she squirms to press as much of herself against the Rose as she can. 

"Do not be so vain champion. And for your information, that pathetic creature does not scare me. Even if his powers surpass mine." Long thin nails glint as she retracts them from Mortis's hand, they glint and she picks them. As she looks down at her hand with boredom.

"As long as he keeps to his kingdom, I shall keep to mine." The woman adds, eyebrows perking up, and eyes flickering up from her boredom to glance at Sarah.

"Why would you see me dead..?" The cool air begins to lap at her more than before, and she clenches her teeth to keep them from chittering. She knows shes asking too many questions, but apart of her wonders if that is the only reason she is alive. 

"I have my reasons. One, I care too much about this Labyrinth to have a silly mortal girl tormenting it. Two, even as much as I care for this Labyrinth...I would also love to see it fall. My people and I have reigned underneath this pathetic squall and his kingdom. We are the exiles, literal hell as you Christian mortals call it. I am tired of my caverns, of my beasts being kept leashed. Yet, it is the way things are...and will be. My dreams will never be answered, the reason being the fact that..." Something flashes behind the god's eyes, and she bites at her full lips and pulls her attention back to Sarah. "if THAT labyrinth dies...everyone dies. Your precious king...every inhabitant of the underground will simply cease to exist. Even I, and I am death itself."

"Then how am I apart of this?" She needs answers more than ever, and to ever think she was back home dying of sickness. It makes nausea swim at her consciousness, and she can feel the soft string of panic tangle it's web around her heart. She watches with dread, as Mortis's eyes fill with sadness. 

"Jareth was the only person...the only runner to have beaten that Labyrinth. Therefore she claimed him to be king. To be the very ruler of even her. He is her soul...whereas...you. You are her heart." Mor begins, creeping nearer. One hand begins to travel to cup Sarah's cheek, and lingers a mere inch away. "The king's heart is broken, and it has been for a very long time. His soul is corroded, charred down to a husk. It has always been that way, child, way before you. You beating the labyrinth has changed the order of things, she has decided that you possessed her spirit...her heart. And my dear, you are dying. Are you not? You are dying, and in return you are killing our Labyrinth. You are the only good thing, the only balance in all of this chaos. Yet you are damned, but nevertheless you are only a mortal. Mortals are flawed.Perfection ceases to exist. Damnation is forever for your kind. Your lives are as short as a fruit fly compared to my kind. For us, Forever is not long at all." Something crossed the woman's face, an emotion Sarah had never seen expressed on the demon.

Long fingers, double jointed, twitch so closely to her cheek that she can feel her skin buzz at the proximity. Magic, there is so much magic, and her mind finally lapses into dizziness as it files the information back.

"So how do we fix it?!" Her voice comes raw, splintering up her throat. She just needs to know what she can do, the land is dying, and...

"Ah. I was getting to that, before you rudely interrupted." Her fiend shifts, and the air intensifies. "My very touch, can see your past. Present. And your future. With just me touching you, I will be able to see what needs to be done, and I will see how to cure your sickness."

She eyes the fingers so close to her face, and gulps loudly. The mere thought of someone crawling into her brain makes her want to disappear forever, but she knows she needs to do it. In order to save the kingdom...to save...  
"Fine. Do what you need to do... anything to save.. to save..." _Him._

There is a clicking noise, and the long nails retract back into skin. It gives her enough time to close her eyes, to prepare.

 

* * *

 

"You almost WHAT?!" Rolan's voice is loud enough that it reverberates off of the walls, as he scrambles from his tiny cot which creaks happily at the loss. There is so much fury, it's blinding, and its  _all his fault._

"I did not kill her, but... I have not... come in contact with a human in a very long time. Therefore I did not realize how fragile she is." Mor stands at the doorway to the room, her arms wrapped around herself, and she has the most stupid look on her face. She's  faking worry, he knows, but apart of him gives her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she does care, but it still doesn't change the fact that the girl got the shitty end of the stick.

He's practically trembling; sweat beads up on him although he's half naked from trying to rest. He cant even look at her any longer than a second, because any longer makes him want to charge over and feel the satisfying urge to clip her head from her shoulders. Which he can do, he knows how to kill a God.

"I cannot believe you. Almost killing the key to our very existence. By the gods you better have some news to tell me, or I believe I may end up ripping your pathetic head from your shoulders." He does it, looks at her longer, and it only furthers the excitement bubbling in his chest. Red, everything is red. His knuckles burn from the way his hands clench. 

She nods, stepping into the room, her horns dipping as she lowers her head before she glances up to him with a _look_. "Listen. Okay? I did not expect her to be this sick... she is going to die Rolan. Sooner than later. There is a clock ticking in her lifespan that is creating a whirlwind of absurd hell."

"What is wrong with her?"

"She has a sickness of the brain. Which is growing by the second. It only stopped growing once Eden nurtured her... but you and I both know we cannot keep her locked within that rose. Not with the king searching."

"He is searching?"

"Yes."

He flinches then, knowing deep down that its his death wish. He shouldn't have taken her, he shouldn't have even accepted Lilith's offer. But he was desperate, he knows that now, and hes not too sure he's ashamed. Quite the opposite. "Ah."

"Exactly. What is worse... is that we cannot let the king get her. Rolan. We cannot let the king gain possession of her, he will kill her."

"Kill her? But I thought the fool loved her?" His ears perk, twitching. Something about it feels wrong, but then again no ones really heard anything but rumors. No one really knows.

"He does, but he has lost his mind. He is too crazed to be tampering with the heart of the labyrinth. He will lose his temper, and who knows what will happen..." Her voice wavers and dips, and it's the voice she's used to him a long time ago. It lulls at apart of him to comfort her, but he doesn't. No, Sarah is in danger.. _Fuck. Now I have to deal with ALL OF THIS. This is what I get for keeping her alive._ His consciousness clips.

"Mortis get to the point. What has to be done?"

"She needs to be taken to the cauldron." He barely hears it, but it is there. A whisper, a mission. But it's absurd and he feel's as if he's been burned.

"The _cauldron?_ You have to be _kidding_ me." Rolan snorts loudly, "the cauldron is just child's play, it is but a _myth._ "

"It is our only chance Rolan. I saw it in her future. I know it exists. Though I have no clue as to where to find it..."


	10. Chapter 10

She had just finished braiding her hair from the reflection on the wall, when Rolan busts into the room with a wild look in his eye. He jerks forward quickly, hand grabbing at her arm with a crippling force that frightens her. His body screams danger, she can read him well enough now to know that even he is unbalanced. "Where are we going? Why are we in such a hurry?" 

"Why do you ask so many questions?" She feels like a doll as his hand tugs at her. He's too big for her to stop, but he has enough self control to not drag her along. She licks her lips anxiously, eyeing the scuffs on the dark suede leather jacket.

It had been so nice, after talking with Mortis, she was gifted with a quick shower from one of the warm waterfalls nearby. She'd taken her time, did a little self care, and found a little travelers outfit. A cream colored canvas blouse that puffs out in an old fashioned way. It was light and airy, and it was paired with a set of deep umber slacks. She had to ask for a belt with them being slightly larger, but other than that it was a very nice outfit. Old and covered in a thin layer of dust, with the downside of wearing it without undergarments (apparently Mortis didn't understand?) but she couldn't complain. It was more than enough. It made her feel adventurous, but now it only made her realize how quickly things were changing.

She knows from the whites of Rolan's eyes that they will never see Mortis again, not here and not now. It bothers her, and she plants her bare feet against the floor in attempt to get him to explain  _something. Anything._

He's scaring her. 

He drags her along anyways, without any hesitation, and brings them to a room full of mirrors. Mirrors of every size and shape, they glint and their reflections ripple like running water. It occurs to her how much she truly depends on the man before her who is twitching nervously, eyeing the mirrors with a certain untamed violence. They have limited time, but she has to know something. She bites her lip and yanks from his pull, just as he turns his attention towards one of the larger frames.

It snaps him back to her, his eyes dialated with fear. He's afraid, and she's never seen him afraid. What is happening? She takes a step back and his nostrils flare with irritation. 

"Rolan... At least tell me where we are going." He takes a step towards her, his braids clicking within the heart shattering silence. It's tense, he's tense. What's got him so scared? 

He looks like he wants to eat her for a moment, as something vaguely animalistic filters through behind his eyes. 

"You are dying, and it is up to me to save you. So let me save you, shut up, and let me save you." The octave in his voice drops maliciously, and it rumbles through her in a wave. It makes her blink with surprise. 

"Why are we in such a hurry?" Her brain is trying to catch up, but things are getting so hard. Everything is getting so complicated. Why did they have to be so complicated?

"Because you are being hunted, and if h- they get to you first, you might die. I'm taking you to a place where I had grown up- a safe haven. Somewhere that I can begin training you, and getting you ready for the journey ahead. Somewhere safe so you won't be found, not so soon anyways. You need strength because where we are going is not for the weak." He's pacing now, his breath coming in short raspy spurts, and she watches. Her face flushes with heat from the fear that creeps in. She's being irrational keeping them any longer, and she knows it. "Let me save you." He says suddenly, his massive paw of a hand comes thrashing out towards her. It's so large compared to her, and she stares at it for a moment. Taking in the scars, the bruises, and the calluses. She takes his hand.

"Save me then, if you so wish."

* * *

 

 _He's here_. The ethereal thrum of magic sweeps through her palace, and she feels the unfamiliar pit of anxiety crawl it's way up her spine and into the back of her skull. She had not lied to the human girl about her lack of fear of Jareth, but she did not specify the fact that she was not ready for the hell he brought.

She sits perched on top of her amethyst throne, and twirls a glass full of nectar wine. She hasn't taken a sip of it, because it wont do any help to the pain to come. She just watches it's reflection ripple silently. Soft little droplets dance across the surface and it makes her throat raw. The amount of power displaying in the details makes her blood run cold within her veins, and she tries to remind herself that he wont go that far. He couldn't go that far, not if he truly cares about the girl.

"Send the hounds. Let them greet him with the upmost authority." Her voice rumbles, and she can feel her palace tremble. Even the hounds do not want to face him, but they must. She feels horrible, knowing that they are to go to their death, and listens quietly. 

 _I hope they are far away by now..._ are her last thoughts before she wipes her mind clear, knowing he will read it. Knowing he will pry everything she has, even if she dies in the process. She glances back down at her drink and decides to sip at it,  letting it burn it's way down her throat and warm her insides. 

In the distances the hounds begin to cackle, their cries sounding like a murder of crows, and it makes her heart mourn them. They echo, revealing how far away  _he_ is, before they begin to snuff out like little candles. He is here. He is here and it makes her heart flutter as if it were a bird caught within a briar patch.  

She clutches at her chair with her free hand, and aims for a lazy disposition; when the entirety of the throne room begins to dissipate. Everything begins to unravel, atoms and particles twisting loose of their material seams into nothing but ash and dust. The roses quiver, and they bleed violently against the petals. She feels tears prick her eyes before she wills herself to glance down at her goblet, she needs to be strong for them, for the girl. 

_Silence, and stop your foolish games...just face me. Let this be over with._

A pendulum of madness sweeps through the cavern, and a white light cuts through her darkness like a sharp blade. The light obliterates everything within her possession, and burns her like a hot fire. She tries to shy away from the light, but it burns her, tearing at her skin like tiny needles. She jerks, feeling her body subconsciously rear back into it's seat, and drops the goblet in the process. And as soon as it starts, its gone. Leaving her quelled up within her seat, panting at the pain that clips at her bones. It was funny for him to use the light of the pure, when his very soul was as black as the darkest of nights. It makes her want to laugh as she blinks through bleariness, and paws at herself to get it together. .

"Where is she." His voice pricks her ears as she finds the one she relents the most, leaning against the side of her chair. 

"Where is who?" She does not dare to glance at him as she leans away, sitting herself properly, and glaring at the spilled wine. It must be an omen, she's sure of it as she feels the anger radiate off of her _guest_.

"Pity, you spilled your drink. Would you like for me to replenish your cup, madam?" His voice boils with sick sarcasm, and the sound of sharp nails tapping on gemstone clips through the air like tiny bullets. She tries her best to keep her wits about her, and tries to continue staring at the goblet on the floor. 

"Leave it up to your majesty to offer you a drink within your own home." She wills sarcasm, knowing it will kill her. "and pity that he charged his way into my chambers, killed my hounds, and is now threatening me with flashy light shows. If I were to have the girl, your chances of getting her are obsolete."

There is a chuckle, and her nostrils flare with distaste. What a beautiful laugh coming from such a monster. 

"Still as talkative as the day I had first met you. Mortis, you simply bore me with your words. Words that hold no meaning, words that are but lies. Where is she? Or do you have a perfect alibi against all of the rumors of the underground? Do not waste my time, for there is a clock ticking my dear old friend, and I must not be late to the party." He's too close, and she tries to hone in on herself to keep from moving. His fingernails continue tapping, almost musically, but its a reminder to not mess up. He will have her throat, if he doesn't already. 

"The champion Sarah?" She starts, trying to find the surprise in the hoarse variables of her voice. He knows, he knows because he has everything to gain whereas she has everything to lose. She grasps at her chair, deciding how it is she wants to die. "I do not recall seeing her, your majesty, but I have heard talk of the deadliest bounty hunter...this man supposedly has her within his grasp." Her heart sinks, and she closes her eyes to keep the tears from falling. Rolan has everything to lose, one of those being his very heart; it would only make sense that he be hunting down by the king himself. The knowledge grips at her, and her eyes flutter open to find the mismatched eyes of her adversary. 

Something is off, _broken_. It lies deep within his eyes, a sort of soullessness that lingers in the glint. Soullessness or madness. Such pretty eyes, they glisten dangerously only mere inches from her face, and she feels the cool breath flicker across her face. 

Such a beautiful creature, such a waste. Her fingers clip into the amethyst, making a sharp scratching noise to remind her not to attempt to claw at his face. Although she wants to, she wants to rip him apart, make him  _suffer._

A smile carves its way across the sharpness of his face. The face that has changed so much since the champion left. Such a change. 

"The truth Mor, the truth to something is far more valuable than the lies. Speak the truth or I will strip it from you in the most painful of ways."

"Very well, truth you will have."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then I go and spoil it all  
> by saying something stupid like:  
> "I love you."  
> \- Something Stupid- Nicole Kidman & Robbie Williams

A few days of running, of hiding, when they come to the outskirts of the village. He stands there, broad against the shadows, and feels the uncertainty roll underneath his skin. He cannot keep her safe forever, and lying low from the world would only continue to worsen their situation. She needs proper food, more clothes...somewhere to sleep that isn't the ground. 

He huffs, it's late into the night, and he shifts in a way that she knows; to follow him. 

It had been so long since hes been here, in this place. Having been a runaway seeking the attention of a gang of boys. The wrong attention, but attention none the less. In the very end its all the same, blood pact or not, hes still left alone.

They pull away from the outskirts of the jungle and onto a travel bridge that stretches far and long. It's narrow, and completely wooden. Non reliable to people who do not know how to go about this village in the trees, but she will learn. 

With every step old memories flutter past him, pulling him under to another time where he had come about swearing into the lore of assassins. Where he had craved a family, a real family, and found it with a bunch of orphans who were too pissed off at the world. Now he knows that he had gotten it all wrong. He wanted a family, a real family that was more than blood pacts, that was more than filth and fighting day in and day out. More than killing one another, and doing dirty deeds for the foul.

He glances back at her as she watches with awe, they walk along the wooden bridge as it sways ever so slightly, the village is up ahead in the distance. It blinks hazily through the shroud of mist that hangs heavy, and looks like a ship out at sea. He glances at her, and the word family gurgles in the back of his mind.  

Suddenly a prodding sensation flushes through him, ripping from his head to the present to find a tiny hand pawing it's way into his. She does not look at him, just watches the world around them change and shift within the haze, but he knows that shes uncertain. He wants to tell her this is home, that it is a haven for now, but its not. Its just a place, another place that will go up into flames once the King finds that she is being kept here. They will be running for the rest of time, but at least he has a vague idea of something they can run to. 

They walk in silence until a far off light flickers off and on, it's a lantern- a signal. He stops and feels the girl run into his back with a soft groan of surprise. 1..2..1.2...3. The lantern flickers, and he smiles to himself. One of Mor's hounds had done it's job well. Going ahead and giving the message for them to be taken in and sheltered. 

Maybe things wont be bad after all..

"Follow me, but be quiet." He whispers, and she follows closely. She has become far more clingy since the tunnels, and he doesn't really know how to go about it. It's nice, but its _different_. 

Hes not use to touch, not the gentle touch that the girl brings with her. Its  _sweet_ almost. But apart of him resents it, she should know better than to touch him. He's not meant to be touched. 

 _So_ **_fragile_ ** _, the protrusion of bones flash through his mind. As he watches as his enemy lifts her needle - like fingers to caress the soft flesh of Sarah's cheek. If only he could rip her fucking hands off and feed them to her to make her understand that the mortal is delicate. But he cannot, he is trapped- in the worst nightmare of all, watching as the girl he had come to know over the short fragment of time ;become but a weapon against him. ._

They twine through the darkness, and he's so caught up in his head that he feels a sharp tug.  "Is this where we are staying for awhile?" She whispers, and he realizes hes taken them straight to the blinking lantern, which hangs limply from the door of the cottage. The cottage, with a glance around, is at the very outside part of the village, more hidden amongst the trees than the rest. It ought to do, and he nods to her before flicking the lantern off. Slightly happy that the person was no where to be seen to help accommodate them. 

He licks his lips, eyes flashing and she steps back to let him in first. Slightly even hiding off to the side out of the way, in a way, that hes very thankful of. His hand grips the door handle that appears to be an antler of sorts, and pushes into the house with little to no restraint. The door doesn't even creak as it swings open to reveal a cozy living area. A rumbling fire off in the corner that emits a calming radiance across the room makes him step in. He inhales deeply, using his fae senses to sniff out for intruders before he motions her inside. There is no one inside, he knows as he listens for any other heart beats in the surrounding area. 

She walks in after him and stands there, shivering from the cool night, and stares at the fire longingly. He clears his throat with a soft rumble, and she takes it as permission to curl up near the fire place. He watches for a few moments, eyeing her small form before deciding to go and check on the rest of the house  _just in case._

"Thank you." She whispers, its so soft and so sweet. It makes him pause, with his back to her, before he disappears through a thin doorway and down a small hallway that only consists of three doors. The white wallpaper peels badly in many areas, revealing the deep grain of the wood underneath, and he trails his hands on both sides. Catching splinters and peeling off dust, his mind swarms around the past few weeks. How many weeks has it actually been? How long until he gets her to the cauldron?

How much time does he _have?_ He thinks of Mortis and the bargain they had struck, and rounds on the first door to the left. He opens it up, ready as he always is for danger, and peers into the darkness of the room. Everything is coated in a thin layer of dust, and he realizes that their mysterious friend only made sure to unlock the door and start the fire. Leaving the rest up to them, which was okay. The world didn't have to be kind. 

The bed is small and rickety, with a tiny old fashioned vanity set up beside it. There is a window on the other side of the bed, it is too small- barely even a window at all, and he decides that this will be Sarah's room. No one can get in, not through that window, not without having to go through him. He closes the door slowly, teeth grinding in his jaw before he turns to the door just adjacent of Sarah's room. 

He opens it quickly, peering in with hackles raised, and finds a larger bed. It's not what stops him though, it is the wall that the bed presses up to. The wall is shrouded with hundreds, if not thousands, of roses. All in which different color patterns, and species. Even mixed with a few of Labyrinth's finest. They climb through the wooden boards of the wall, and eat at the peeling wallpaper as if they are feeding off of it. He tears his eyes away and looks to find another vanity and desk area, and catches himself in the mirrors reflection. The vanity sits against the opposite wall of the bed, and he knows he will move it to where it faces away. That or cover it with a sheet, either way.

His reflection recoils him, and he snaps away from the person staring back at him. A barbarian, a _monster_.  Instead he moves towards the roses, and clips one off with his fingertips. It rolls within his grasp, its pale and lovely like her skin, and he grips it in his hand as he leaves the room. He opens the third door the one at the very end of the hall way, and sees that it is an average indoor bathroom system with a sad little shower that's molded and rusty. Its nice though, better than what they have had.

He closes the door and begins walking back to the living area, but stops immediately from the sound of something tapping against the floor. He halts, staring around, before finding that his right hand is bleeding from the thorns of the rose. The pain had not registered, and he stains the pale petals with his blood. For a moment he thinks about going to his room and getting another rose, because he's obviously tainted this one; but he decides against it. He's been gone from her for too long. 

He finds her curled up and nestled on the floor in a large woolen blanket, her eyelids moving a little as she puffs in her sleep. Her braids are coming undone, but he doesn't want to think about that as he watches her cheeks take the heat of the fire.

_Do not fall in love with the mortal girl for if you do, then I will find a way to drag your filth down to the very depths of my hell._

Blood drips on the floor and he swallows dryly. S _he will prick her finger like a fool_. And disappears down the hallway, walking to her room to open the door up. He leaves it open and he assessed the bed before he unsheathes the dagger from it's holster to clip the thorns off of the rose stem. It's quick, and it keeps him busy enough to screw his head on straight. 

He leaves the rose on the vanity and goes to collect the sleepy girl so he can put her in her bed. It's early enough that he can go into town, get some supplies for them, and return home by the time she wakes up. 

 

When he goes to pick her up, she squirms and buries her face into his neck, and it makes him freeze up once more. She's so small, so  _light._

Rolan wraps the blanket around her tighter and makes the walk as quick as possible, because the longer she stays in his arms the more he's going to want to protect her. He doesn't love her, its just... Its just shes so delicate, and weak and...and  _human._

He walks into her room, heart pounding, and gently sets her on the bed before peering over at the rose that sits on the vanity. Maybe it's too much.

Maybe she wont notice. 

 

 

After checking in with the merchant, an older man who was one of the only people who Rolan could consider a friend; he proceeded to buy a few things.

The merchant making it his duty to help him with finding the finest of fabrics for training, for the girl, saying that it would be best for her _highness_. It was well enough, although it cost a pretty penny, but he didn't care. He went on and bought a few more things, upgrading weapons, adding new weapons to test out and see which she happened to be best with.

She was kept secret between only he and the merchant, to buy them enough time, him enough time. Because from here on, it was all down hill.

A war could, very much, break loose.

By the end of it all, it was mid-day, and he had just turned the knob to the door when he stops dead in his tracks. 

There is music, it is soft and lovely, and he stands stupidly as he assesses that there is an old turn table displayed against the wall where the living area bleeds into the kitchen. It's spinning, and the longer he listens the more hes spiraling into the situation. The scene that greets him burns into him.

She is dancing, hair down and wavy from her braids, in a makeshift toga from some odd blue material he hasn't seen. He blinks, heart thrumming wildly as he closes the door behind him. It must be loud enough, because she glances over her shoulder and her cheeks burn bright red. She's caught him watching her, and he quickly looks away as his hands grip at the cotton bags in his hand. He should go put up the supplies, should ignore the fact that she isnt sleeping, but very much awake. 

The way her hips curve against the material stings at the back of his eyes. 

 He's eyeing something to keep his mind off of her and the music, when it dawns on him that hes been gone long enough for her to clean the house. Making it into a _home_. 

He swallows dryly, for a second he feels like a different man. Not that of an assassin, but of a man coming _home_. 

Something soft touches his hand, and in immediate reaction he drops both satchels of supplies. It's her hand, shes trying to take his hand. 

He allows her, feeling how soft and frail she is, before his eyes hone in on the details of the woman in front of him. Her dress is too big as it wraps up her body and fastens over one shoulder, there is white yarn tied around her midsection, and he's afraid that if she moves a certain way that he may see more skin than he's currently seeing at the moment. A heart attack, that's what hes asking for.

He hungrily eyes her. The way her dark hair falls around her pale shoulders, even the way the baby hairs curl around her face. Her cheeks are a deep rosy color, and he wants them to remain that way. It looks so good against her skin, but it's her eyes that make him hesitate. They look at him with such...innocence? Happiness? The green of them guts him to the bone. 

Shes smiling and pulling him towards her as she takes a step away and motions towards the living area. She wants to dance, it's obvious, but apart of him wonders if this is some hoax. If there is a Sarah sleeping in the room still, and a nymph has taken her place in front of him. Feeding on something sick and twisted within him. 

The record scratches, making him jump, as it churns on to the next song. 

"Dance with me!" She calls over it, breathless, her chest heaving. The music is soft, lovely, like a lullaby churning on and digging itself into his mind to haunt him forever. 

How can she be real?

Forgetting everything, he pulls her close, one hand placing itself at her mid back and the other completely engulfing her left hand. Hes never been good at dancing, but it reminds him of a time where his mother had tried to teach him.

_'What will you do if you fall in love, and the girl wants to dance?'_

He feels her pull away from him and wrap both arms around his midsection that tapers in just enough for her to be able to (barely). She's hugging him, and he shutters with some deep desperate need. The need to just be wanted for once. 

"Thank you." She whispers, its more to herself, but he listens anyways.  Her heart is calm and collected, not frightened like a bird. She's calm around him, and it speaks in wavelengths. She should be afraid, she wouldn't be holding him if she knew the truth. He _took_ her. He was _suppose_ to kill her. 

His spine ached from hunching over to assess her height, but he doesn't mind as they sway and he loses himself. She's got him wrapped around her finger, and he hates it. But he wont do anything about it, because...because.

Her eyes are closed as her face rests against the expanse of his chest, she's a solid foot shorter than him and she barely reaches his chest, but something about it makes him purr softly. He's so content with this small human, and he wants nothing more to just curl up and relax. Just remain in this embrace of comfort, of friendship, of lov-

This is something he can never forget, and he stares off and into the fire that has died down to a simmer in the fireplace. It's warm outside, there is no need, but it reminds him. It balances him and puts him in his place.

They shouldn't be doing this, _he_ shouldn't be doing this. 

He wasn't coming home to anyone, he didn't have a family. This wasn't anything but a human girl trying to find peace amongst the chaos, and he's taking advantage of it. 

There is no chance, and he knows he cannot have her. 

Not when she whispers _Jareth's_ name in her sleep every night. Calling out for him like some twisted beacon. 

She doesn't know she does it, but he cannot bring himself to tell her to stop it. She _wouldn't_ stop it, she _couldn't_ \- _especially_ not for him. 

The song ended and he breaks free, breathing raggedly through his nose.

"Don't ever play music again. It draws too much attention. Shut it off- NOW" He growls because shes being stupid. Shes being stupid, and its not like she cares. She _doesn't_ care about him, she never has. He just keeps her safe.

She just needs him because hes there. That's all. 

She hesitates, and all the joy leeches from her face as she stares at him. He kills, kills, kill- _kills_.

It would only make sense for him to _kill_ the moment, to _kill_ the chances, and to _kill_ whatever is going on between them. 

He turns, leaving everything lying on the floor, leaving her standing there. He couldn't stay, because if he were to stay he'd just fuck up.

He would ruin everything, and he couldn't do that. Not when her life depended on it.

He needed a drink.


	12. Chapter 12

_"Sarah, let me find you. Let me save you."_

 

She woke up and screamed.

Screamed out of frustration, out of sadness, out of longing for a truth. She screamed because his voice still haunted her every night, and she could never say anything back.

She could never communicate, could never see him, hardly ever felt his presence. Though, god, she could hear him.

She felt broken, or fragmented, in a way that she would never be completely whole again.

Tangled sheets wrapped around her like the vines of Mor. She felt claustrophobic amongst the heavy woolen sheets that pressed against her reminding her of the boy who played Romeo. Brian? Was it?

She shoved them away, shoved everything away from her. She needed to breathe, to-

She looked down at the bedsheets and noticed the single white rose with all of the thorns picked off.

It was then, she calmed down, and simply picked up the rose.

Rolan had taken to the habit of giving her roses every morning. Yet, he made a point to take the thorns off of every single rose he had given her. She couldn't understand why, a rose is a rose... the beauty was thorns and all.

She twirled it within her fingertips, taking in the fact that it was very early in the morning. The light from the outside had not come in through the windows, and the birds were just beginning to chirp.

It felt like a normal day, but it wasn't.

She felt like she was above ground... but she wasn't.

She got up out of bed, groaning in protest of how her bones popped and her muscles begged for her to stop moving. She was incredibly sore, but had gotten use to the feeling from the two weeks they had been staying there.

 _"Staying in the village of paradise"_ Rolan liked to call it that, the village being within the trees of the madness of jungles.

She had never seen so much green in her life, and had never expected it. Especially within the underground.

At this point, she made her way to her closet and glanced at the broken vanity mirror beside her bed.

She looked like shit, felt like shit. She noticed the dried up drool crusted along her mouth and cheek and grimaced. She had been _that_ tired after they got back in from training.

She hurriedly scrubbed at her cheek and felt the want to peel off the grubby sweat encased layers of her clothes. She needed a bath, and resented herself for the fact that she did not get one after training last night.

She glanced back at the bed, the rose still within hand, and noted that Rolan must have covered her up. She knew he was already up from the new rose.

He said it was "healthy to be motivated by beauty" and "it is there to remind you that there is hope."

She rolled her eyes and stalked off to the fresher.

* * *

"Gods damn it Sarah."

"You cuss too much."

"Fuck you." His smile reached his eyes. His eyes were on fire with triumph as he swung at her once again. He was proud of the fact that she had just caught him hard- in the side- with her staff. Delight radiated off of him as he watched her deflect him easily. She could tell at the renewed energy within his stride, and the stupid shit eating grin upon his face.

"Come on, stop being so easy on me. I can take it." She growled pushing forward, breaking down his walls as the small bridge underneath them creaked. Any minute now and there was a fifty-fifty chance that the bridge was going to send them both to their death. She snuck a peak at the deep forest below.

It had taken her a few days to come to realization that they were practically living amongst the trees. High up within the canopies, and far away from the monsters that dwelled in the undergrowth.

There was a stinging in her right leg as the tip of his staff nipped her shin. She growled and fantasized of how she rather liked the idea of flinging him off the side of the bridge and to the depths of his despair.

She liked the fact that she could be hard towards him. It was as if no matter what she did he was there, taking it ten fold, embracing her for what she was.

He never gave up.

"No, you are too sick for my kind of fury-Sarah. But you are doing good for your two weeks of training, you are learning. Now think. Decades of training like this- that is what I am." He boasted, perspiration amongst his thick brows. He swung, she dodged. They begun to pace themselves, neither of them pushing the other further than what was expected.

It was still incredibly early, the light of the day just ripening. The people of the village had yet to begin stirring. It was strange. This place, and these people.  It was like a civilization of a mixture of creatures coming together. Humans, trolls, elves, and more fae of all different shapes and sizes lived amongst each other. She loved it, she loved the fact that there was an unspoken peace. An unspoken harmony amongst the spirit and trees. It was all unified until they came though...

They pay her no mind, and yet Rolan stuck out like a sore thumb. He happened to appear more larger than the majority, and he was much more aggressive. He acted like he was there on a mission, not the fact that he was returning to the place he had once called home. She wanted to punch him for his pettiness. For the fact that he constantly stole, and some nights he came home drunk off of his ass. Refusing to speak to her, hell, he refused to look at her unless if they were training.  He confused her, constantly he put on a mask of happiness. Yet when no one was looking, it was as if his mask would slip.

She realized that he was running from who he was or use to be. Or he was running from the truth of something that he had yet to say out loud. She did not pressure him, but watched as he made a fool out of himself.

She supposed it was because he had been banned for so long. He had lost contact with the others, had forgotten how to act civilized. He had forgotten that there were actually good people, who were willing to support him rather than...kill him.

"Hey, no daydreaming. Daydreaming kills. Dreams kill." He swept her legs out from underneath her, and she fell back onto her bottom. The breath left her as she tumbled back, her bottom hitting the wood with such force that she almost felt her spine rattle.

The bridge let out a creaking noise.

"You're the biggest dreamer I know and you aren't dead." She hissed, knowing she'd feel the impact later in the day.

Their fighting halted and he held out his hand for her to take. She grabbed it and allowed him to pull her to her feet like she was nothing but a small sack of potatoes.   
She noticed he said nothing, but his eyes burned into her.

"When will you talk to me, truly talk to me Rolan?" She pronounced her fists balled up as she watched the man try to hand her back her learning staff.

He sighed. "What is there to talk about Sarah?" and simply dropped her staff. She knew he did so out of the fact that he would break it in half. His temper was incredibly shorter than she had originally thought it to be.

"The fact that ever since we came here, you won't talk to me at all, unless if you're training me. It's like I don't even know who you are. It is like you constantly ignore me. Rolan. I can not continue doing this, how can I trust someone who is keeping things from me? How do I know that you are not just using me for your own sick games?!"

"That is the thing, Sarah. You do not know me. You never did." His voice dropped, hinting at emotions he would most likely never reveal. She knew it for a fact when, all of a sudden, he laughed at her. His laugh took an equal intensifying effect upon her mind. Breaking down every wall she had ever built, and burning all of the bridges that were formed to the idea of hope. He laughed, and she died a little on the inside.

He laughed, and she left. Wanting to be as far away from him as she could.

* * *

 

"He can seem quite annoying, can't he?" A mans voice cut through the silence as she walked along. It had been five hours since she had left Rolan behind with his laughing fit. Five hours that she had felt slightly better, but felt lost more so than anything else.

She had taken a route that she was definitely not accustomed to, it had been a single bridge looping further away from the village than she had thought. She stopped mid stride and braced herself, hating the fact that she was without her staff.

 _Stupid stupid stupid._  
  
"I mean you no harm, I was just watching from afar. My brother is quite amusing if I don't say so myself. Especially with his lack of empathy." There was a thud that sent the flimsy bridge wobbling. "Does he know that you've left the village? Little one."

She felt a wave of nausea of realization pop through her consciousness, and turned around far quicker than she would have liked.

"Oh." Left her as she met the eyes of a massive black panther. The panther let out a deep rumble that could have been mistaken as a purr, but she knew better. Frankly she felt like she was going to willingly jump off of the bridge and to the forest below.

"Surprising. I would have expected you to run screaming." The creature before her rumbled its mouth unmoving, but the voice was as clear as day. More in her head than anything.

"Brother? Who? What?.... how?" She mouthed out, her words choked up within her throat. She noticed that her hands twitching with the sudden desire for a weapon, more importantly- her staff.

The creature took a few more steps towards her before a guttural sound engulfed the air.

"Hurt her," a deep growl ensued "and I'll rip you apart with my bare hands."

Sarah made to turn around but a hand wrapped itself around her and pulled her behind the wall of a man. Rolan stood in fighting stance his muscle corded and defined underneath his tank top. He looked as if he had been running to catch up, and yet there was no sound of him approaching. Something within her stomach churned.

He hardly looked at her, but his massive hand stayed wrapped around her left side to keep her close behind him.

There was a keening noise, and a soft cackle. "Oh brother, it has been years. Decades even, since I've seen your ugly face." The panther purred, moving towards them a few steps before sitting back on its haunches. It's bright yellow eyes never blinked, never left them as they stood there.

"Sarah." Rolan murmured "go back to the village, and I will meet you at the house. Go back, do not turn around, and go straight to the house." A wave of emotion swept over him for a split second before it was swept away. It was all she needed before she turned and fled. Her heart sang within her ears, as her feet slapped against the border bridge.

* * *

 

"Great, and now I have to deal with that when I get back to the village. Marcos, you must understand my position. Understand the fact that there are some things that she cannot know. That you shouldn't be this close, this fast. Did he send you?" Rolan was speaking far too quickly, his voice had reached a deep guttural sense as man and beast circled one another. Taunting eyes of flame and metal danced with his as they locked themselves down in a war of glares.

There was a hum of satisfaction as the panther quickly transformed into a human, all the while still circling Rolan who watched the painful process.   
There was a popping sound, and a retching sound as a man crawled to his feet. Marcos ripped away any lasting skin of the beast and shot a pained glare at Rolan.

"I cannot stay in human form for longer than five minutes. So I will begin, yes. I was sent here by the king himself. He is searching for her, and he is mad as hell. He's already tortured enough information out of Mor. He doesn't know who you are, and I didn't until now..." there was a pause and a pained look twitched it's way across the mans face. "I had just recently found you both...But soon enough he will be on your trail, I will not tell him. I won't do that to you brother... I do not know your story, but I trust you know what you are doing. You've never been the one to capture random women."

"You've never been one to be sentimental, Marcos. What do you want out of this? You're practically committing treason by even allowing me to get away." Rolan watched the man smile, yellow eyes bright and too much.

"I see the way you look at her. A man that has feelings for a woman is willing to do whatever he needs to do to keep her safe. I respect that. Besides for all these years- I was almost convinced you had no heart. You were- in fact. One of the deadliest men in all of the underground, or have you forgotten that? Now, enough of our banter. You have approximately four days until I come back, four days to leave this village. Because I cannot guarantee that the king himself will not be with me the next time I cross your path." The ending of his words became a strangled cry in pain as Marcos fell to his hands and knees. His back hunched in pain as he tore at his skin. Small minute droplets of blood pitter patterned on the wood like rain.

Rolan knew not to stay and watch the shit show, but he felt more reluctant to go back to see the girl. _Feelings?_ He felt himself eye roll, and swiftly walked in the direction of the village.

He felt outside of himself, his hands dug into his pants pockets. His mind reeled at the fact that his very own brother mistook anger and resentment as _feelings._ What did he know? Nothing. He did not know how hard it was to even be in the same room as her, knowing that in the end, she would never choose him. If it came down to it, she would not try and save his poor useless life. Though he did not blame her, for he would spit in his own face and watch himself crumble away if he could.

 _Feelings- my ass._ His feet led him to the place he had grown fond of. The local pub. Now, thanks to dip shit he had to find a way to tell Sarah things, and talking to Sarah had become so hard.

She expected too much out of him, and at times she even looked up at him with admiration. It made his gut churn, and a vile aftertaste erupt against his taste buds. He hated responsibility, he hated the fact that he kept her alive, and hated the fact that he actually listened to Mor.

His hand curled around the mug.

She really ought to know the truth, but what was there to tell that she did not already know? The fact that they were chasing the idea of the "cauldron", and more than likely going to get caught. They had come so close to getting caught to-day that it nearly made his temperament boil over.

He looked up across the hut and chugged back the liquor within the cup. Half the time he had no idea what it was, which suited him well.

He had no fucking idea what anything was anymore, or how to feel as a matter of fact.

* * *

 

She was worried sick. Distraught and pacing the floor of their house, she had come to realization that she should have stayed.

She should had stood and fought, and it would be her fault that he did not come back.

She watched the door like a hawk as she allowed herself to try and attempt at composing herself. Though, the longer she paced, the more she knew that he wasn't coming back.


	13. Chapter 13

"Sarah?" 

  
A deep voice echoed throughout the hallway of the little shack Rolan and her had been staying in. It made her freeze mid panic attack, and look around the corner. Her heart beating quickly, her hand grasping the wooden staff she had been missing hours before.

It was late into the evening, and the entirety of the village was beginning to blossom into something like a freaky Gatsby party.

Of course she had never gone to the parties, Rolan forbid it, always saying that it was too dangerous.

That someone would recognize who she was.

So it did not help the fact that the music gave an eerie undertone to the moment that her and Rolan locked eyes.

He had just closed the door and called out for her when she peered out at him from behind the wall. He did not look shocked or anything as he drank back the rest of whatever he had been drinking from the jug-like container in his hand. Only to toss it aside as if he could not hold it for a moment longer.

He looked rough, with dark circles underneath his eyes. His scarred face looked much older than it had earlier that morning.

"You're alive." She whispered, tears forming and replacing the old ones. She felt more comfortable knowing that he was okay, even if he was drunk.

"Uh, yeah?" He grumbled his eyebrow rising up in a questionable act. His sarcastic tone did not change her feelings as she charged from behind the wall, and knocked him off of his feet in a bear hug like no other.

"I thought I lost you, I thought you left me alone, and and an-" she fumbled over her words as she tried to stop the tears from cascading down her cheeks.

"Calm down" he murmured pushing her off of him. She did not realize what was happening until she noticed the muscle in his jaw jumped. She had been too close, straddling him almost. "What in the hell are you talking about? I would..." he stopped talking, and pulled himself to his feet.

She remain seated on the floor and hiccupped for the first time that night. "You would?" She asked, watching him as he turned his back on her and walked to the kitchen space which was open along with the living area which consisted of a small couch, and a fire place. The kitchen was not much to begin with either, but she liked the minimalistic approach to it.

"I would never leave you, not unless if you asked me to." His voice slurred as he grasped the sink counter and looked out the small window above it. The faint fiery glow of the city illuminating his features. 

"Promise?"

* * *

" _Promise_?"

Her voice was like fine wine to his ears, and he hated it. What more was he hated the fact that she even asked that of him. Of course he could not leave her, not now. Not when no one else was capable enough to take care of her, to keep her from dying.

More than anything he needed a raise.

He turned around and leaned up against the kitchen counter. The entire room had been spinning, and the only thing that was keeping him grounded was the look on her face.

The look of pure worry.

No one had ever worried about him before.

"You swear it?" She pronounced again, getting up off of her short legs and proceeded towards him with her hand stretched out.

At first he thought she was going to hit him, so he braced for it, but instead was met with a pinky in the air towards his face. "What in the bloody he-?"

"You HAVE to pinky promise me. It's incredibly important, and could never be undone." Her voice cut through him as he raised his eyebrows, taking her in for once in all of the weeks they had been living there.

"Is it as strong as an oath?" He asked, his eyes scanning her forest green eyes. Taking in their childlike largeness, and the way they shined in the darkness from all of the tears she had shed.

"It's stronger than a blood oath." She murmured watching him back- wiggling her left pinky finger to claim importance. She did not even flinch when he grabbed her wrist and held it in his right hand his thumb rolling over the soft texture of her skin.

"You are going to make me swear on my life, are you?"  He chuckled, swaying forward for a moment before he stuck his pinky out as well, not knowing anything about the mortal act.

She intertwined her pinky with his and he felt himself sober up a bit before he awaited for the magical alignment that usually happened with an oath.

Nothing happened, and he chuckled.

"Listen, about earlier. I am sorry for prying. I understand why you don't.. why you don't want to get too close. It's because I'm sick, it's because of the king, it's because I would be afraid to get close to someone as well. I know it's a coping mechanism, because I've been doing it all of my life. Ever since I came back from this place."  She murmured letting go of his hand, but she did not back away. She only watched him.

Oh, but he watched her as well. He noted how much better she had looked since they had left Mor's desolate palace. Of how she was not so pale, or malnourished. How she seemed more fiery, and in tune with everything. Her words soaked into him as he just stood there, his mind too numb from the alcohol. His heart too unshielded.

_I'm going to regret this._

"But listen, Rolan, please understand that... everything you are doing for me... It means the world to me. You are the best thing that has happened to me in so long, and just Incase if I die before we figure all of this out. I just want you to know that you're. That I-" her bottom lip trembled and he decided it was about time to end the emotional rollercoaster.

"Shut it. It will all be okay, okay?! Everything will be okay. I don't know how I feel about this. You hate me?! Don't you?! Why not?! I stopped and drank before I even came and let you know that I was okay. Where is the anger from that? What about the questions? I know you are dying to ask me who that was back there." He grumbled killing off anything that could grow into something more.

He built up his walls and pushed past her. . "Pack your things, we are leaving as soon as we wake up."

He lingered for a second more his mind wandering over what she would have said, but before he could ask for anything more he disappeared to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise Jareth will be here soon!!


	14. Chapter 14

**S** arah sat up as anger threaded through her tired veins, and continued her saddened gaze at the dying party outside.

She _hated_ him.

Her mind throbbed as she watched the lights dim, and finally blink out as if nothing had ever happened. As if, there had never been music or drunken laughter.

_You will be just like that, as if nothing ever happened. As if you never happened._

She placed a hand on her forehead and leaned forward, the headache more agonizing than it had ever been in her depressing life.

Sarah winced as she felt her body ache more than it had in weeks, and she knew that her time was running out. That she could not continue on training, and running. No, she simply could not run anymore.

That she could not let him watch her die.

She got up from the bed like a newborn phawn, and hurriedly grabbed her staff to used it as a walking stick. She had to see him one last time before she left, before she strung him along to get killed by the man that she dreamt of.

Her knuckles grew white as the staff helped her walk through her room and across the hall to the next; to find his door ajar. Being small enough, Sarah slipped in as quiet as she could and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room.

She cursed herself as she found him lying asleep with his back facing her; of all of the scars on his back that glistened underneath the moonlight that showered through the window nearby.

His bed was set in the middle of the room, and appeared a lot smaller than the man that slept on it. Two chipped wooden nightstands stood proud on either side of the bed, caging him in with roses of all colors that littered the stands' surfaces. They grew madly, tangling themselves amongst the vines that littered the rusty headboard that clung to the wall.

It took her breath away, for she had never truly went into his room, but it made sense...the roses.

She moved forward and tried to make minimum amount of sound with her staff before she sat down on the bed next to him. Wincing softly at the slight dip she made next to him.

For a moment she could not look at him, but watched the night sky out of the window just above his bed. _I'm so sorry._ She wanted to say, but instead she leaned down and placed a kiss upon his scarred cheekbone.

"I'm sorry" came out as "I love you," and "I hope to see you again," came out as "Goodbye."

She checked one last time to make sure he was asleep, and then left on quiet feet.

As soon as she left the hut, she let go of holding her breath and slumped against her staff. Everything over the past few weeks had gone by so quickly, and so deranged that she barely felt herself.

She barely knew how to feel about anything, but she knew for sure that she was going down the path of insanity. "Just take it one step at a time." Her whispered reminder chilled her as the situation dawned on her. It was in the middle of the night, and everything was deadened by the silence.

The only thing that comforted her was the miraculous full moon, that was much larger than any full moon she had ever seen in her life. She was even sure that she could reach up and pluck it from the sky, with how close it was.

So, she began her journey with one foot after the other. Following the moon's blanketed embrace down rope bridges, and past the village into the unknown regions of her heart.

* * *

 

"It is funny, a young woman such as yourself to be walking all alone on a night like this." A voice seemed to float amongst the wind to her. She blinked, suddenly stopped and dumbfounded in the middle of the moonlit bridge.

She had been walking for so long, her legs aching, her feet blistered, and still she had not yet found her way off the bridges.  Any longer and she was sure the sun would rise, and she would be prone to much more dangers. Dangers called: Rolan, the Raven.

"I think it is not wise for someone such as you to be following a woman such as myself." She looked around, her eyes finding small shapes in the darkness.

What came to her surprise happened to be the beautiful great horned owl perched upon an old branch that looked too similar to an oak limb. The owl gazed at her with such stillness that she subconsciously shivered at the weight of the stare.

"A threat some would assume, but from the champion I know those words to be a promise." She spoke softly her beak working as if she were panting. As if the chilly night air was hot.

"So, why must you follow me?" Sarah imposed.  
Her hand tight around her staff which hung awkwardly from her right hand, half of it leaning on her and the other half wedged enough to keep her from toppling over the side or the bridge.

The owl did not move, but a certain awareness washed over her big beautiful eyes. "I was sent by the king, to find you."

"Well, you found me." Sarah gulped back the abrupt feeling of unease. She was so nervous, yet so excited. She was so close. So very close.

There was a sudden deathly silence, and she watched as the owl simply crumbled away into autumn leaves. All but to float down and crumble to dust at her feet.

 _"That_ _I_ _did."  A velveteen voice sprouted just behind her, and she stiffened at the sudden impact of someone standing behind her._ _Someone_ _who she had_ _dreamt_ _about for years, someone who she had wished to who_ _never_ _came. Someone who she hated- and loved._

_She made to turn around, but was stopped by gentle hands of alabaster upon her shoulders. Light, and feathery._

_"Hello darling." The Goblin King purred. "I have been searching for you."_


	15. Chapter 15

" _ **Once there was a little boy as pale as snow, with eyes of blue and gold. He grew up within a castle of the cold and cruel, as the soon to be ruler of the damned and the wicked. He did not have a mother, nor did he have a father, all that he had were goblins, trolls, and all things that go bump in the night.**_

_**Therefore, one expected him to be cruel and monstrous, one expected the little boy to best the labyrinth and become the one fit for the crown. Yet, the little prince- wanted more than that- he wanted a friend, a playmate, someone to lighten the burden of his days.** _

_**That is when the little prince with mismatched eyes met- her.** _

_His mentor warned him of the mortals with their shiny technology and disbelief in magic. The creature that had raised him even went as far as to warn that the above ground was nothing but a boring experience._

_Yet, the little one did not listen and ventured aboveground anyways, only to find himself entranced with all of the mortals and their wonders. S_ _ocial interactions, the flashing lights, the loud noises._

_He simply fell in love with the way the humans lived, carefree, extravagant parties, mascarade balls, and their ways of simple interaction between one another._

_He loved the aboveground so much that sneaking off to the surface had become a regular occurrence; something that he did for months, years, and even centuries to come. Though with the more he attended the surface, the more he grew older, he realized he was missing a vital piece within his life. A friend, someone to spend his evenings with, someone to share the bizarre ways of magic, and did not try to slit his throat at every possible corner of the day._

_Ah, but the prince could especially remember the day he met her, that very day was set into the stone of his heart. A cataclysm of what was to come._

_The inevitable._

_It was on a Thursday afternoon, just before- what humans called- dusk. He had traveled far and few between, through every nick and cranny of the cities and rural areas of the world. He met, watched, and explored the differences between all of the mortals to find himself simply sad at the end of the day. No one had been interesting enough, no one had caught his attention. No one had the passion in which he needed to have, for a friend. It was when he whisked himself to a random small neighborhood that he was caught awestruck._

_He had begun to simply stroll the walkway in which the mortals called a sidewalk, when a nearby commotion of a young child silenced his thoughts. He had glanced over his left shoulder through his long thin bone white hair, at the sword swinging maiden on the front lawn of a two story house. She had looked to be no older than five, with unbearably short wispy hair of midnight brown. At first glance he had believed her to be a young boy, because of the shear boldness in which she was swinging her mighty sword at the imaginary component._

_She growled, ducked and swung again. Striking at the air with upmost authority that if there were anything truly there, it would be deader than dead. He could not help but to stare, wide eyed, something in him unfurling from his bored position. He watched her for a few more minutes before she noticed him and all but sneered. Her grin as grotesque as some of the most fiercest goblins within his kingdom._

_"Who are you?!" She called, raising her sword high, giving him a glance at the thin plastic toy. He wanted to see what she would do with the toys he was use to playing with._

_"I am Jareth," he blinked, astonished at the abrupt demand of her voice. He had never had someone speak to him so freely, so mortal. "and may I ask- who are you?" he suddenly felt too old, even though he looked to be around ten or so._

_"Sarah," She returned her response by lowering her sword and glancing away from his piercing gaze, to gaze fondly at her now visible beloved bear. The bear that sat staring aimlessly through the twilight of the evening at the base of a massive tree._

_She walked away, and all he could do was just gaze at her. Entranced by, god knows what._

_The night was beginning to breach the day, giving way to the fireflies that began to dance around the lawn. They reminded him an awful lot of the wil-o-wisps in his own realm, so much so, that he scrunched his nose while he tried to figure out whether they were disguised or not. The way they flickered to and fro as the little girl stumbled forward on bare feet, her sword put up in it's makeshift holder. He believed Sarah looked more of a knight, in that moment, than any of the squabble in his court._

_"Sarah, wait!" he tested her name on his tongue, and decided it was the loveliest name he had ever spoken._

_She had picked up her bear and was hugging it to her chest before she even thought to glance his way. When she did look his way her already thick eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. She barely tried to look straight at him, it was as if he were foggy to her, a mere ghost of what he truly was. She even went as far as to flinch when he said her name, earning brownie points because he loved it. He found himself walking towards the girl and her teddy bear._

_"What do you want?" she blinked carelessly, her sassy-ness towards the prince seemingly drew him closer. Her fire drew him in like a moth._

_The closer he got to her, the more he realized how unbearably small she was. Sarah was small, thimble, and as scrawny as the elves in his realm. One could even pinpoint the little boyish girl as beautiful in the most ugly- human way._

_"I would like a friend," He responded, but it was more of a demand. "I would like for you to be my friend."_

_"WELL, maybe I don't want a friend." She snapped within the approaching darkness, her lower lip had jutted out into a pout. The look on her face all but made him chortle with laughter._

_"Then just for a few minutes?" He asked, his fingers twitching on his right hand, he could feel her watching him and he did not know what to think. Or how to feel. "You could be the knight, and I could be the Prince that needs saving?"_  


_It was then, that they proceeded to play the game of knight and the prince. It was in that moment, that started the cataclysm to the war within the young boy's heart, and after that day the little girl of dusk would play with the little boy from the underground._

_More than not, they would play at sunset of every day just before her dinner._

_There were even some days that they would not play, but have a picnic within the park._

_It was not until the little girl got into her early teenage years that she had stopped playing with Jareth, who would sit up in the tree by her window to signal for her to come down from her room to play in the back yard. If they were lucky enough, they could even sneak off to the park near her house. He would all but mourn when they could not meet, and he had to go a day without Sarah._

_The day that marked the worst day of Jareth's life, second to the day Sarah defiled him._

_It was the day of her eleventh birthday, the day that he realized how much she had begun to look like a princess than the tomboyish girl he had met all those nights ago._

_She had even showed up to the park in a striking dress of silk and pale blue, with the worst news he had ever heard._

_"I cannot see you anymore," Sh_ _e began, her cheeks flushed, and for the first time in all of their playing she had walked up to him and pulled him into a bony embrace of sheer awkwardness. "my parents swear that you are imaginary, but I know you are real. I know it to be true, it has to be true...." a sniffle then a continuation of "but they told me I could not see you anymore, that you have to leave me alone." Her words barely registered to him because she had yet to pull away from him before he had her into a tight hug, he was much more lanky than her. His height making it somewhat awkward, but he would never forget the way it made his heart pitter patter within his chest._

_And for the first time in his life, he felt alive._

_"But I am real," He murmured, and everything made sense. Her words struck him like an golden arrow through the heart. It was the most human he had ever felt within his life, and when she pulled away from him- she took his heart with her. As she pulled away, she did not stray very far for it had begun to grow cold outside, and the poor girl did not have a jacket. She stood close, and let the last rays of daylight warm up her round baby face. "Please do not go, I am real."_ _He begged._

 _"But they cannot see you." She murmured, her piercing eyes looking strong with emotion as they began to tear up. "I am the only one that can see you, so how does that make you real?"_ _She used her right hand to wipe away her unshed tears before they could fall, and hiccupped._

_He could feel himself growing as cold as the autumn night. In the underground he could not feel, but somehow in that moment he could feel the season as if it were a creature of its own. He noticed the rosiness in her cheeks, and the way the tip of her nose turned a light pink color. So, he shed his jacket and slipped it around her shoulders, liking the way it swallowed her up._

_"Ah, but why does it matter if no one else can see me?" He murmured, stepping closer as the cold bit into his thin figure. He was giving her a reassuring smile, but it felt like hell. "Just because no one else can see me, does not mean that I am not real." He pronounced, taking her hand and bringing it to his cheek to feel the tears that began to fall from his eyes._

_He had never cried in his life._

_What she did next was so strange. Sarah Williams, the girl that had been his absolute favorite person, took her tear stained fingers and dipped them to her lips, and licked his tears from her very fingertips. The moment happened in slow motion, the way her cheeks flushed. The way her own tears trickled down her cheeks, catching the sunset just right that they turned golden. Dust mites floated around them in in the cool autumn air, he could even smell a distant fire. Everything came_ _together_ _in such a_ _beautiful_ _arrangement. None of that compared to the very look in her eyes._

_He had never noticed it before, her eyes, and the way they held a certain ethereal wildness in them. With Sarah being so close to little Jareth, he could practically see into their depths. Her eyes were a brilliant fern green with flecks of gold and orange, and they held his tar black soul within their grasp._

_Her eyes all but damned him, and loved him._ _Sarah's_ _eyes, he_ _knew_ _in that moment, would be his downfall._

_Something within him snapped, a sudden click like a gun being fired off within his chest, and the moment was over. She had stepped away from him with wide fearful eyes._


	16. Chapter 16

Six years.

Six excruciating years had been such a short period of time, and yet it was enough time for the corrosion of damage to set in.

A creature in the disguise of a man stood tall against the window frame that viewed the majority of the labyrinth, which looked like a sea of onyx and copper. He watched with statue-like stillness as he tried to remember the time that he had actually _felt_ human.

He found it pitiful to even try.

The king of Goblins eyed the labyrinth with dull lifeless eyes that were as unmoving as the owls that roosted within the very room in which he stood. He had been rather fond of this room, for it was the room of memories.

The owls in the room were too old, too broken, to act as anything other than things that guarded the memories of the king. When a memory is born, it is born as an egg of deep velvet purple which undergoes the period of brooding before it is hatched into an opal crystal ball.

Opal crystal balls that use to mean everything to the King of Mischief.

It had been years since he had left the room to rot and wither, years since he had shut himself up within the memories upon memories until he was drunk off passion and pain. Until the human within him died along with the dreams that had mothered those very memories.

Even at that moment as he stood there, he itched to taste a forgotten memory. Jareth itched to revisit the very reason he had tried so hard to become human, something that he obviously was not. He was a creature bound by his fate, tethered to the ancient magic that he had been wished into.

He had forgotten the room of Memories, and even then, as he stood at the open maul of the window left forever open for the owls, he felt like an intruder. He felt like nothing, like a monster underneath a child's bed.

Silly, he felt silly.

Though he was never one to visit something without having a reason behind it.

Without looking behind him he flicked his left wrist and caught the memory closest to him. It buzzed underneath his touch at the sudden strength he enforced upon its delicate shell. He did not bother looking at it as he brought it to his lips. At one time he had loved the taste of a memory, of the utter sweetness that would coat the back of his throat and fill his body with a sudden warmness. Now he all but fought the urge to throw up.

He thought of the night before, of finding the mortal girl walking in the darkness of the night, as the first symptoms of the memory encased him.

_"I can't take it anymore you son of a bitch!" The high-pitched screaming made him flinch as he slipped fully into the memory. His younger self simply replaced by his more recent form. He sat up on a branch gazing into the window of the girl's room as she motioned him to wait and to not leave towards the park. The sudden realization of which memory it had been that he had snatched made him flinch, and yet he knew he could not escape until the memory was done. Until all of the past feelings were done._

_He felt afraid for her, and he felt pity. Pity for the fact he had feelings for the mortal girl at all, pity for the fact that his younger self never knew the ending to it all._

_She left him just like her mother left her father, and just like his parents left him. It was a never-ending cycle, a never-ending hell in which now played within his mind before the memory seeped it away._

_"You can't take it anymore? I can't take it anymore LINDA!!!" The girl's father screamed back, throwing bags upon bags of the mother's things out the door. The look on his face was that of pure hatred, of agony. Jareth watched unflinching._

_"This is why I am leaving you for him Robert, because you never gave a shit. Even now you are being selfish, even now you cannot stop thinking about yourself. Go and get shit faced, because that's about the only good thing you are good at." The woman, Sarah's mother, quickly began to throw her things into a vehicle- her vehicle, which sat lovely and blue upon the recently mown lawn._

_The two-story house looked more like a wound than a home._

_Jareth ripped his eyes away from the scene below to look across at the little girl who was huddled up on her bed._

_He went to make his way across the limb to her window when he watched her climb out of her own window and onto the limb with him. She was such a clumsy creature._

_"Take me far from here..." She sobbed as soon as she settled herself onto the branch with him. She had grabbed onto his shirt, but made no move to hold him only to use him as support._

_He would be her support._

_"Where would you like to go?" He could only whisper, for he felt his voice was not gentle enough for the young girl of nine. He watched her emotions play across her rounded face._

_"Take me to the Labyrinth." She stopped crying and went serious as she looked over her tiny right shoulder at him. They were so close to one another that poor Jareth could see her pupils dilate. "Can we play Knight, and the Prince?"_

_He contemplated all but two seconds before he mouthed yes._

_Jareth had never taken little Sarah to the underground before, and he had never truly wanted to because it had been so dangerous. He had just beaten the Labyrinth at the age of fourteen, for human years, and was just recently crowned the king of the underground. He was pretty happy about it, but the sudden urge to take it all back washed over him as he watched the little girl put all of her faith into him_.

_She was trusting him with more than just her happiness, but her life. She just did not know that yet._

_So, with that he grabbed hold of her tiny hand and simply fell off of the limb in which they had been sitting at. The chain reaction to this, resulted in a young girl screaming her head off as she fell into the portal in which the king created to take them to his castle._  


_It had been hours since they had arrived in his palace, and yet it only felt like a few minutes. He was pretty surprised at the fact that she was concealing her true feelings by putting the persona of being the mighty knight. It was as if instead of her sadness, she encased it with the need to find the king. The king who loved playing hide and seek, who loved giving her tests and bounties to achieve. The king who had begun to see her as his Sarah._

_He loved his games, and she loved the adventure. In his eyes, they were such a perfect match._

_At that moment, he had disappeared into one of his favorite rooms, the room of stairs. Which was a room he frequented to get his mind off of things. The stairs were never arranged the same way._

_He sat upon one staircase that twisted down, spiraling into the abyss, the abyss being something that he could not frequent unless if someone beat the labyrinth. He was all lank and limbs as his adult form folded into itself- appearing more childlike than anything. He did not think of it as he stared at the object dancing upon his fingertips. Within his hands he had a small orb, an orb that he could see the things he wishes to see_ _. It swirled amongst his fingertips with the image of the young knight's green eyes flickering with a burning curiosity. She was pacing the hallway with her, now real, sword- that would clink against the marbled floor every once in a while because she was so tiny._

 _His heart swelled happily at the sight of her, and for once he questioned whether or not she was a friend or something more to him._  
_Like many_ _of_ _the_ _great_ _stories he had read_ _from_ _the mortal realm. Stories that had been shamefully stashed in his private chambers. Stories of adventure, of mystery, horror, and stories of love._

 _True love,_ _and_ _love in general, in the underground was something farce._  
_He had never even heard of it until little Sarah gave him a book called "Beauty and the Beast", and he was hooked. It had only taken him a few hours, and ever since then he had read it almost once every week, along with a few others (hundreds). The king was an avid reader of books. From that moment on, he_ _could_ _not stop thinking about what it would be like to love- or to be loved. If he could be her Beast, and she his beauty. If she could truly save him from the hell that he dwelled within. If she could set him free from his isolation._

 _He watched her near_ _the_ _door to the room in which he sat, and_ _his_ _heart_ _quickened_ _like_ _it always did when she physically neared him._

 _"Precious Sarah, you always know how to find me._ " _He_ _murmured_ _to himself as he_ _watched_ _her grab ahold of the door to open it._

_Then she found him- just like that._

_Quickly he ditched the orb,_ _and_ _settled himself_ _comfortably_ _on_ _the_ _steps_ _. He just_ _wasn't_ _ready for the_ _question_ _that ensued._

 _"Jareth, why is it that the castle is so empty???" Her_ _soft_ _matured voice echoed off of all of the stairs, making him shiver to_ _himself_ _._

 _"Because_ _it's better_ _that way..." he stood up and watched her eye the room_ _questionably_ _. She_ _wasn't_ _much of her knight self anymore, she_ _was_ _in a state of curiosity more than anything._

 _"But why??" She questioned,_ _stepping_ _into the threshold of insanity. She was so_ _pure_ _to him, so.... delicate._

 _"Because if you_ _saw_ _what_ _this_ _place really looked like, you would run away_ _and_ _never come back."_ _He recoiled from her and_ _into_ _the darkness. He was thankful he had magic so she wouldnt see his_ _true_ _form, or see the_ _hurt_ _on his face as he imagined the situation._

 _"No_ _I_ _wouldn't_ _. I_ _believe_ _that_ _I_ _would_ _want to stay_ _forever_ _,_ _but_ _I_ _just think_ _it's so_ _lonely..."_ _she_ _twirled_ _her thumbs._ _She was too small_ _and_ _every time she would peer into the darkness_ _of_ _the stairways to find him, her_ _little_ _knees would tremble._

 _He appeared right behind her and simply tapped her_ _shoulder, earning the reward of seeing true shock- flash across her features._ _She squealed, her instincts making her tiny form recoil away_ _from_ _him and off the edge of the staircase._

_Or so she thought, as she fell swiftly towards the abyss._

_Jareth could see the beginning of the fall occur before he reached out and grabbed her arm. Goosebumps rising at the mere touch of her skin, and the way her fear seemed to wreak havoc within him. "Its_ _only_ _me" he_ _giggled_ _out of pure amusement, the monster he was seemed to profit from her fear._

 _And_ _to his_ _surprise_ _, she did too. He swallowed back the hunger, the creature within calming down._

 _"Thank you." She smiled and_ _with_ _his hand still on her arm, she tugged_ _him_ _out of the room, and into the vast empty hallway._

 _Empty_ _for her, more like, many of the goblins gaped_ _at_ _the_ _fact there was a human_ _child_ _in the castle. The few_ _goblin_ _in the hallway stopped and simply stared at their lord and the tiny girl. He hissed them away before his dilated eyes found her confused ones._

 _He was thankful for her not_ _having_ _the sight, and more thankful that she said thanks to him and not just any fairy._

 _"Thank me??" He could feel the creature underneath his skin prick_ _up_ _with awareness once more. "Oh,_ _Sarah_ _, why_ _must_ _you_ _thank me? I was only doing what a gentleman does_ _best_ _?" He tried to push it back, but could only fear_ _for_ _the girl_ _in front_ _of him._

 _"Yes,_ _thank_ _you," she sniggered at first, but her entire expression fell when she noticed_ _the_ _look on his_ _face_ _. Her_ _eyes_ _growing wide, her_ _cheeks_ _flushing._

 _"Will you always be mine, and mine alone? Will you owe me_ _that_ _? Let it be a favour in_ _return_ _of_ _your_ _thanks." He_ _murmured_ _his eyes suddenly too_ _dilated_ _, his_ _voice_ _at a lower octave. He assumed he looked nothing more than a lunatic._

 _"Of course, silly." She_ _chuckled_ _suddenly, her bell like laughter_ _riveting_ _off of the walls within his chest to the point that_ _his_ _muscles relaxed and he felt like he usually felt around her. He blinked back surprise. Was it that_ _easy_ _? Did she truly know what she was saying?_

_"You swear it??" He questioned softly._

_"Yes," she blinked back. She was nothing more than a child, and he was everything of a beast._

_"You are never to say thank you to a fairy, do you hear me?" he whispered softly, "Only to me, and even that can be too much."_

_"What do you mean?" She questioned her thick brows furrowed. He gave her a smile and prayed to whatever god the humans believed in, that she would understand. "but fairies aren't real, are they?"_

_"Of course they are." He sighed, "of course they are and you have to promise me to only say thank you if you really mean it." He felt old, too old, and suddenly he wanted her to go home. He wanted her to never remember to-day, for hopefully she would not seek it in the future._

_"I promise." She blinked, and he grabbed her hand. They were aboveground, in the park, and it was so dark that the confusion of magic swept across her features. "Wha- weren't we-" She began before he tugged her along towards her house, he was her firefly in the darkness of the night._

_"We have been in the park the whole time. What else did you think?" He met her eyes with his own and simply altered everything that had happened that day. He altered the way her mother left, making it seem like her father helped her pack her bags, and that she said goodbye- that there was no fight. He altered the kingdom into appearing like the park, but everything she had said remained._

_'Let her not forget her promise, her oath." he thought as he watched her eyes unfocused, as her mind changed, and he secretly hated himself. He hated himself as he walked her home, and watched her disappear into her house._

_He hated himself because he knew that soon or later he would have to disappear from her life forever, because the more she stayed around him- the more she was prone to dangers. Dangers untold, and hardships outnumbered._

* * *

 

 _"I love you, Goodbye_ " The sweet sultry voice echoed within Rolan's mind as he blinked his eyes open, and watched the first rays of sunlight filter through the window just beside his bed.

Something felt off, but he pushed it aside as he stretched last night's hangover away. The house was eerily silent as he plucked a deep velvet crimson rose from the vine growing along his bed frame. He left the thorns on the stem as a sorry, and hoped that Sarah would notice the detail enough to realize he actually did listen to her. That he did care.

"Hey Sarah," He called, taking in the way his voice echoed off of the frame of the house. He hardly ever woke her up, but they had to get moving.

He left his room with a shirt thrown over his shoulder, his combat pants hanging loosely on his hips, and a single rose intact. He walked to her door and went to knock before he realized something was truly wrong. It was when he opened the door that he truly understood the situation.

"Sarah?" His voice cracked as the empty bed screamed back at him. Pure disbelief hit him, and before he knew it the soft tap of something on the floor took him out of his stupor. He glared down at the velvet crimson rose that he held within his bloodied hand; he had not noticed that the thorns of the rose cut so deep that his hand was pouring blood.

" _A rose is beautiful, thorns and all."_ She had said, and it finally made sense.

Everything made sense.

* * *

 

"She's just as ugly as I thought she would be." The repulsing sound of a nail being dragged across a chalkboard made her sit up too quickly from sleep. Black dots swam in her visions for a few seconds before she had realized she was not on the bridge anymore, but in a bed.

A bed.

In a room filled with books, and cobwebs.

Being examined by one of the most ugliest creatures she had ever saw.

She screamed, and in return, it screamed back.

"OH MY GOD WHERE AM I?" She groaned as she lied back down.

The last thing she remembered was mismatched eyes, and the sweet smell of peaches. So, she automatically assumed that it was his castle she was in, but it was nothing like she remembered when she was fifteen.

She blinked back tears from the migraine blossoming within her skull.

"Shut it you noisy thing," The thing clicked and popped as it made its way to the side of the bed. "If et wasn't for the master's orders, I would have killed you the second your nasty little mouth started squealing."

Sarah could not even open her eyes enough to truly see the thing next to her, and protested the moment she felt something against her lips. "no, what is this?" She grumbled against the metal, feeling the pressure of the, what she believed to be, cup against her lips.

"Drink et up lil piggy, drink et, drink et, drink et. et'll take the pain away- masters orders." It's gurgling reminded her of someone choking to death.

"Like I will drink anything that monster gives me." She hissed under her breath as she felt the cup beginning to cut into her lips. She was refusing, and yet she had no clue as to why she was refusing it.

"I mean, et's up to you if you want pain. Stupid in my opinion, but if you don't want et, i'll drink et." It babbled on, and Sarah could vaguely hear the hint of a woman's undertone in it's voice. The pressure of the cup worsened, and she knew right then she would have to drink it whether or not she wanted to. So she parted her lips and let the creature help her drink the liquid from the cup.

The liquid tasted of peaches, and she felt her head swim at the smell. She gulped it down as if she had been without water for days.

"Good good." The creatures voice smoothed into a soothing elderly woman's voice. Sarah could feel a hand brush back the strands of hair plastered to her sweaty face, and she almost leaned into the motherly touch before she opened her eyes.

The migraine was simply gone.

She blinked the tears out of her eyes. "What is that?" She gaped, her eyes meeting the ones of the, what she assumed, was one of Jareth's servants.

A fickle womanly creature with small black beady eyes. She looked to be cross with five different species that it made Sarah's head swim with anxiety. It did not help that the moment they locked eyes the creature just simply changed into the shape of her mother.

"I'm a phooka honey. Can change into anything but the king. Do you like this form better? I take it you'd rather this than my original form."

"But but.... what were you before... what?" Sarah blinked suddenly forgetting her migraine or the fact she was lying in bed in the castle. She was astonished.

"Oh?? Oh THAT," the creature snorted in her mother's voice, and giggled softly. Sarah's mother's bobbed hair had fallen onto her eyes. "I thought it would be nice to scare you, to get that heart pumping. Hey, it's not the worst thing that can happen to you right now. Besides, your fear" there was a sniffing noise, and Sarah felt the hair on her arms stand. "Anyways, the names Viola. I'm your servant for however long the king feels. So, dont get use to me."

Viola grabbed the cup she had sat down on the night stand by the bed, and began to walk out the door before she paused. "Oh, and piggy. Do not leave the room. Not for anything.  
So, I suppose you should take a bath, and ready yourself for the banquet tonight." The slamming of the door echoed throughout the room, leaving Sarah with the feeling of complete loneliness.

"A banquet??" The question choked it's way out of Sarah's throat.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're my favorite bird, and when you sing  
> I really do wish you would wear my ring  
> No matter what they say, I am still the king  
> Now, the storm is coming;  
> The storm is coming in.  
> \- Degausser, Brand New

It was very much like the Goblin king to store Sarah Williams away in a room filled to the brim with books.

So much like him that it brought a soft smile to her lips, as she traced the book's spines with a lover's caress.

Sarah was very fond of books, and yet she could not remember the last time she had been able to sit down and relish their leafed pages.

They all but called to her as she stood taking in their heavy perfume, getting drunk off of it, before plucking an old favorite from it's place on the shelf.

 _Jane Eyre_ it seemingly sang with its beautiful golden embroidery. It had been a very long time since she had embellished herself within a classic. The heaviness in her chest seemed to unfurl as she felt the pinprick of tears threaten to spill from her eyes. It had been so long.

And yet everything within the underground was different. There was no telling how much time had actually passed in the present.

With a sigh she disappeared into the bathroom with the book clutched lovingly to her chest. The bathroom was an abrupt change of scenery. Causing her to pause as she closed the door behind her.

Vegetation. It was as if stepping into a jungle of beautiful strange flowers. The entirety of the room was covered with strange species of flora, and It was absolutely breathtaking. Another world within all of the worlds she was inhabiting, enough to steal her attention for a few grappling seconds before her eyes landed on the pristine porcelain tub tucked off to the corner by a massive window.

The window overlooked the vastness of the labyrinth. A labyrinth much different than the one that inhabited her thoughts.

It seemed to sparkle underneath a beautiful full moon that hung lazily within the sky. She bit her lip, knowing to not pay close attention for many things had changed over the years. Tomorrow was another day to bask in the details of her strange prison.

"Lets get this over with, shall we?" She muttered to herself, fingertips caressing the vinyl cover of the book.

* * *

 

"She is on her way master." The coy voice whispered to him as the woman with Sarah's face stood nearby. Her eyes watched his face with a look he knew all to well, so well infact, that it made him sick.

"Viola. if you do not vanquish that face then I will, by all means, vanquish it for you.." He seethed, he did not want to be reminded of that night so many years ago. Of the night the broken hearted Jareth sought flesh, and realized it was the soul he had yearned for.

His fingers dug into the chair in which he sat.

"Sorry sir," She all but murmured and disappeared from the library room. Her lack of presence giving him comfort.

Feeling numb again, he settled within his chair as he watched the massive fire wriggle and turn in it's hearth. He sat far too close, relishing the prickling heat against his cold skin. Basking in the hellfire as his mind tittered off to the earlier whereabouts of his day.

He had spent the entirety of the morning in the room of memories, trying to remember why. Trying to jumpstart the withered and blackened heart within the cavity of his chest. He tried to gain back feeling, any meaning to the reasons why he should keep her alive.

But then again, she just might have to _prove_ it.

The sound of light tapping of feet on the marbled floor echoed within the tresses of the hallway outside of the room.

A smile carved out onto his face as the mortal walked into his fine web.

* * *

  
  
  
  


She had gotten carried away with the book, so carried away that when she came to realization, she was sitting in a cold tub with an angry phooka at the door.

The woman had been seething by the time Sarah had nudged the door open; wrapped up in a towel practically shivering from the cold- or fear...probably both. Totally taken back by her mother's face, once again, and scowled as the woman practically ripped the towel from her and began to dress her forcefully.

She didn't even bother paying the dress any mind, even if it wrapped her up in a tight embrace.

Neither of them said a word as Sarah clutched at her chest, feeling like a child being scolded.

It wasn't until she had grabbed the brass handle to the room in the empty hallway, that she realized the heaviness of her situation. She was late.

She was late, and he was right behind this door.

She stopped , pulling her hand from the handle as if she had been shocked.

Years, she had been dreaming and thinking about him for years. About the labyrinth, about everything. Wishing it were true, going insane with how imperfect her life had been, being an absolute fool.

She was a _fool._

There was talk, small whispers amongst the wind back at the village, in the caverns, from the lips of Morr. Small talk of the king having lost his mind, of the entirety of the labyrinth falling to pieces.

But what was she to do? Walk in and embrace it, finally lay her eyes on the man that had stolen apart of her all those years ago? Or would she turn on her heel and run. Run like...like Rolan would tell her to.

 _Rolan._ Her gut twisted in agony as a wave of nausea swept through her senses. It was then she looked down at her hands, at the callused fingertips, the bruised knuckles, and the small cuts etched into her flesh. Of the soft emerald green dress, that she wore in that replaced her dirty top and trousers.

She was practically wrapped up in finery, and something didn't feel right. She felt like she were about to be eaten alive. _Consumed._

The low groan of the door broke her thoughts as she looked up, her damp hair clinging to her face. Darkness, darkness except the soft glow of firelight that illuminated the small space. A study room blanketed in cobwebs.

She began to tremble, the dress becoming too tight, her hair becoming too cool against her skin. The thought of running thrummed through her, begging her. But her eyes locked onto a figure, lazily strewn about a chair, and her heart pulsed.

She was too far away to tell the details, but it was enough to bring her forward and into the heavy embrace of darkness.

"You're _late_." A soft purr, a warning.

The air smelled of something stale, like books- books and something coppery. She took another step forward, all of her bravery diminished as she locked eyes onto the figure within the chair. He had not dared to move from his position as his left foot twitched lazily.

"I-I'm sorry." She fumbled over her words, not moving from her station. The darkness within the room was unbearable, tangible and nasty in all of the ways that completely surpassed the depths of Mor.

This darkness was alive, seething... _angry._

He shifted to a sitting position then, slow and languid as he leaned back within his chair. Still not bothering to address her properly. She stilled, heart beating quickly.

He seemed different somehow.

Though _different_ wasn't exactly the word.

"what are you doing standing all the way over there? Come- sit." He motioned to the chair to his right with a hand. Her eyes honed in on his hands as she could feel her skin break out into gooseflesh. His hand remained within the soft glow of the fire, and as she began to creep closer she could see the difference in them.

They were long, boney with extra joints that curved into sharp blades that substituted as fingernails. Claws underneath stretched pale flesh. It was enough to prepare her for the moment she sat down, the velvet embrace of the chair a petty shield to the creature that sat adjacent to her.

This wasn't _Jareth_ , this couldn't have been Jareth. Not the man that haunted her dreams every night. She grabbed onto the sides of her chair, feeling her knuckles pop from the stress as she watched the Goblin king watch the fire. He did not bother moving to look at her, or to move at all, no the only thing that could have given away any sort of emotion was the way his left hand lazily played with a crystal ball.

If the familiarity of the ball was there to comfort her, then it's objective had failed completely.

Silence.

The soft crackle of fire that sounded too much like the rattling of bones.

"It's rude to stare. Is it not?" He blinked, his owl like gaze broken as the crystal ball simply dropped from his hand and rolled off into the darkness.

"Sorry." She murmured looking towards the fire, feeling his sudden gaze upon her. She couldn't meet his gaze.

"So full of apologizes." His voice was smooth silk, "Has life been so unkind to you? Has it broken that spirit that once filled that vessel of yours? Because if my memory serves me well, I remember you were never sorry, especially when it came to _breaking_ me."

Breaking him? She blinked, taken back as she adjusted herself closer to the fire, seeking warmth. She was at lost for words as she continued to watch the flames, becoming more and more aware of his watching her.

"Why would you care, you were never there...after all of the times." She growled, the sudden surge of anger burning. She felt like she was on fire, her entire being aching.

"All of the times?"

Silence.

" _Sarah_."

"All of the times I've wished for you to come, to save me, but you were never a hero- were you?" Him saying her name broke the spell of fear, and suddenly her eyes met the glare of the king.

His austere face had somehow changed. Having lost the mask of humanity, the man that looked at her, wore the face stripped from it's once humanistic charm. Flesh pale, wound tight over high cheekbones in a mockery of beauty. His once long hair cut short into white wisps of jagged hair follicles that had lost all reasoning with gravity. His ears pointed and sharp, just as sharp as the gaze. The only thing she recognized. His eyes, the same mismatched eyes, examined her as they glistened from the orange glow of the firelight.

The look he had on his face could have been mistaken as admirable, instead it only appeared to be hungry. Almost as if it were painful for him to not eat her alive, and not in the ways that she had once dreamt about. No, those chances were far gone.

This was not Jareth- this was but a changeling of the man she once knew. The regal portrait that dimmed all other portraits of anything faerie like. Almost elf like, built and borne from the labyrinth itself.

The king before her was nothing but himself, more of himself than she would have liked. And upon seeing her emotions play across her face, she watched a sickeningly sweet smirk play across his thin lips.

"Foolish girl." He murmured, more to himself than her. "Have you forgotten the rules? Of course you have."

He moved closer, leaning in as his gaze stripped her bare before him. It was not a gaze of love, more of curiosity than anything.

"To be frank with you. Give me a reason to not kill you- right here, right now." The orange flames reflected within his eyes. He remained deathly still.

"Then you would die." She felt his words pierce her, digging deep within her skin as every hope and dream she had of him came crumbling down. Her world, her world had crumbled before her.

 _Just cry about it later_ , she told herself.

No physical response but a soft purr. "And what if I _want_ to die? Do you think I am scared to dance with death? Because I assure you that I am not."

"Then the entire Labyrinth will fall and dilapidate, it would cease to exist. It would be the end to everything."

He straightened up, all emotion drained from his face as he watched her coyly. Suddenly back down to the husk of his being.

"So the rumors are true...I thought when she had spoken to me all of those nights ago, that she were but picking at my foolishness. But I should know better than to think the labyrinth would tell lies." He stood up suddenly his eyes torn away from her own, so he could watch the fire as he stood. "Go back to your room, and I would advise you to not leave it. This castle is not safe for a child."

"I'm not a child." She growled under her breath as she stood up and made her way to walk out of the room before pausing. Eyes burning into his back as he stood, tall and lean, his suit worn and tattered like the room itself. "What in the hell happened to you..?" She questioned, hoping her voice was stern enough.

She left the room just as he spoke his answer.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Low and heavy, a soft lullaby on dead lips. "You."


	18. Chapter 18

She had been so weak the last time he saw her, so fragile, and yet she was stronger than he had been lead to believe. Strong enough to leave, and to take the matters into her own hands.

What did she think she was doing? _Saving_ him?

He wanted to laugh at the irony of it all, but instead paced himself as he traveled. A single red rose hung, limp, within his clenched fist. His fingers long rubbed raw from the thorns.

It had been a day since he was within her presence, resenting her for breathing near him, resenting her for all the ways that she proved herself worthy to be the queen of the Underground. Something he couldn't come to terms with, not when she had caught onto his training so quickly, not when the dull ache in his chest kept him moving. He had to get to the castle. What he was going to do from that point on? No clue.

He should have just stayed, gone to the bar and drowned out his sorrows, take a shot for every hour the entirety of the life span of the Labyrinth stayed true. Ah, but he had to find her. He had to drill it into her thick skull that nothing was as it seemed. That she were but a mere piece within the entire game, and that if she would just stay with him. She could be _safe_.

He felt like a mother hen, worrying. Each step shooting through his veins as if he were walking on glass, remembering everything with earth shattering detail. A blink and her green eyes were fiery and hot, creeping in under his skin as he remembered the way she watched him. The first person in his entire life to ever be interested, and it was all based off of a damn lie. A tiny white lie, because _someone_ had to play it cool and be the _bodyguard_.

He could almost hear her chuckle, that sultry voice persuading him in all the ways that made him keep going. He wouldn't stop, he couldn't stop. He would find her, take her to the cauldron, and everything would be okay. She would be okay, and alive. Because damn if he didn't try so hard to keep her breathing.

Her _breathing_. The soft hitch within her breathing that would echo within the darkness of the cave, when he had to sleep a few feet away. Though he never slept, if he did it was never for very long, long enough for him to stay strong. Even then he had begun to worry over her, staying awake many nights just watching as she struggled. A flame trapped underneath the skin of a failing body. Never had he felt the constant stretch of awareness, of every mannerism he had filed back into his brain as he watched her slowly cope with the ways of his world.

And maybe that was his problem-he cared. He actually had a heart. A ugly goblin heart aching for something he would never allow himself to admit. He would sooner give it away than to watch her go without.

He glanced down at the rose, watching it bob in his gait as he walked, it was the only thing. The only damn thing that kept him level headed, because by god this rose. This rose would make it to her- thorns and all.

* * *

 

"You are to stay in 'ere until the King orders otherwise." The phooka commenced, taking the form of a child with onyx eyes and charcoal hair. He blinked at her, his skin so pale and porcelain that it looked as if a doll had come to life. It scared the hell out of Sarah, who sat on her bed wringing wrinkles in her extravagant dress.

She didn't say anything, hearing the slosh and clank of a plate being set down on the vintage mahogany desk that had faded into a ivory brown color. A splash of dust and mold kicked up from the plate's onslaught, and filtered through the golden bronze of the fireplace, that set a warm glow throughout the room.

It was daylight outside, but she had felt the need to close the curtains. Something that gave her a sense of privacy so she could reflect.

She jolted when her bedroom door closed loudly, echoing throughout the room. _So much for the banquet_ her mind huffed as she collapsed in on herself, not even bothering to fulfill the hunger that rolled in her stomach.

 _"Give me a reason to not kill you right here, right now."_ A sudden chill encased the room as she felt herself shiver, suddenly wishing she were back home in bed holding Lancelot.

What had he meant by that? It was surely something he would have never said to begin with, not with all of the times she had sat and contemplated their reunion after all of these years.

Nothing was what she expected, especially from the creature that had singlehandedly given the devil a run for his money.

Had they not shared that connection all those nights ago? Draped in finery, encased with the low hum of magic that had intertwined the heavenly dream of the evening ball that had frequented her mind. It was something that had felt so real, it was the moment she realized that her feelings for him had changed. Changed in the ways that a mere teenage girl could find a man of unconventional looks to be heart-stopping beautiful.

From that moment on, he had taken the place of every male character in all of her favorite stories, although the stories could never hold any competition to the real- whatever this was. But now it all made sense, the fabricated lies swirled around her, sinking in underneath her skin. She had clung to him, and the idea that all of it was a fairytale, as an escape.

Her heart ached dully within her chest as she leaned forward in a silent cry- much too painful, everything hurt.

What had she _done_?

She left the safety of a good friend, someone who cared about her, someone who had promised to keep her safe.

A retching sound left her lips as a moan ripped through the air. Quickly she made action to wrap her arms around herself to keep from shattering into millions of pieces.  
  
  


Oblivious to the soft exhale from the other side of the bedroom door.  
  
  


* * *

 

_The Labyrinth sat perched within the middle of it all. An enormous maze of incredible mandala like intricacy. It was so enormous, in fact, that no one could ever place the beautiful spectra of detail that glimmered off of it's twisting walls._

_At the core of it all, a mighty castle jutted up and out of the scenery, declaring itself in a frightening and compelling manner, as it cast out an otherworldly amount of skin crawling magic._

_A lone white bird soared above this castle, white wings glistening with crystal like reflection as it dipped closer, preparing to alight along the sill of it's master's window._

_"Esmerelda." A voice cooed as the white owl landed, catching the window sill with ruffled feathers._

_The voice belonged to no other but the Prince himself. Prince Jareth of the Underground, who was currently readying himself for the opponent who dare defy the odds of his Labyrinth. The opponent who had marched right into the throne room at the very moment his bird had perched._

_"Give me the child." A young woman steamed, her hands clutched into fists at the sides of a long flowing white dress._

_Taking the prince aback for a moment, for the moment was captured with clarity._

_"Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City. To take back the child that you have stolen, for my will is as strong as yours and my kingdom is as great." She continued, her voice sultry against the Prince's musical ears. Her eyes burned into him as he stilled; his hand falling from the holster of his sword._

_Her cheeks were as red as the roses he grew within the gardens._

_"Child? What child do you speak of?" He felt the trickle of anger from being accused, for he was a young lad just acquiring his lonesome throne. He had not planned on his opponent to be the princess of the neighboring kingdom._

_"The child Tobias." She all but growled as she stepped forward, her dress illuminating under the attention of the evening glow, if he weren't so caught up on her accusation he would have noticed the way her long slender legs shadowed through the dress._

_But the prince wasn't foolish, nor rude, so he only looked her over to acquire the sense that she was weaponless. Then proceeded to pine over the name, digging into the depths to recall whether he knew the boy or not._

_The name struck home, and he rose an eyebrow. "You mean the boy who trespassed, and attempted to make a fool out of my kingdom by harassing my guards and making a mockery out of himself?_ ** _That_** _boy?"_

_Her entire face only flushed a deeper shade of red before she pawed back a strand of hair that stuck to the side of her glistening cheek. "Yes, he is but a child, he knew nothing of what he was doing."_

_"I am sure, Madame, that he did not" His eyebrows rose again, as a mocking smirk split his beautiful face. He had began to move towards her, once again feeling in control now that he knew she was but a woman and not a fierce warrior wanting to take his head._

_But little did he know that the woman had her own weapon. Her bravery. Her courage._

_He couldn't remember a time that he had ever met her outside of that moment, and knew that he would remember if he ever had. For she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen in all of the time he had been alive. So beautiful, in fact, that he was all but jealous of the child she was fighting for._

_"And who, may I ask, is this Tobias? What are his relations to you?" The question cut the air as he circled her, a predator in the way he stalked. She stood her ground, never moving an ounce save for the heaving in her bosom._

_Why was she not dressed in finery like a princess should be? She was all but in a simple evening gown, fit to be sleepwear if one weren't picky._

_"Tobias is but my friend. I nanny him while his mother works." She swallowed, unaware of the way the prince's nostrils flared at the scent of lavender and sandalwood that clung to her. He was close enough that he could pull her to him, and stopped just before her._

_Jareth was a tall man, built with the likes of a warrior in mind, with not a clue as to what to make of the beauty in front of him._

_For a moment he wanted to ask her what of her name, but thought against it as he played along. "He committed treason princess." The snap of teeth startled her, as he emphasized the situation, and racked his brain to remember all the times he heard of the rumors of the Kingdom over having a princess of such fine imagery._

_"I want my friend back, if it's all the same." She growled, ignoring his warning as she sized him up by squaring her shoulders._

_"What is done, is done."_

_"But he didn't mean it."_

_"Oh, he didn't- did he?" The smirk spread across his lips once more, showing his teeth as he watched the way her throat bobbed with emotion._

_"Please." Her voice came out breathy and low, making his head swim as he watched the way her eyes flickered from the floor and up to his own._

_"Go back to your kingdom, forget of your friend. You need to no longer babysit such brooding children, and worry about your own matters." He broke the eye contact, knowing that a moment longer and he would not be able to hold up this persona of warrior._

_He made to leave._

_"You cannot tell me what to do-" A hiss snarled from her lips as the young woman grabbed the prince's arm. Trying with her might to bring his attention back to her. He whirled on her so close that he could see the color of her eyes, and feel the warmth of her breath on his face._

_"You have no power over me." Her voice coated with anger once more, and Goblin prince knew from that moment, that he loved this princess of the neighboring Kingdom._

_He loved her even if he could not have her._  
  
  


The book snapped shut as a heavy sigh relieved itself from his lungs. This book was a burden, a testament of his written word of a sad attempt of trying to get a young girl to fall in love with this young lord of mischief.

A desperate attempt to have her wish him back into her life, after all of the years of her having forgotten her imaginary friend.

Jareth sighed, fingering the area of the book that he had to patch up from the dagger. Remembering the day he had placed it within the hollowed oak of the tree within her favorite park. Watching with at most interest with a heart of a fluttering bird in his chest.

So much had gone into the making of the book, intertwining a story about a princess hell bent on saving her friend from the mighty selfish Goblin Prince of the Labyrinth. Falling in love with the way she had found the book and dived into it without hesitation. Eating up the way it possessed her every waking moment of each day, for the next few years of her teenage angst. Always going back to it and rereading it as if it were a new story.

She had fallen into his trap of many traps spun just for her.

Indeed he had made a mistake. Giving the poor prince within his story an awful ending very much like his own.

He tossed the red booklet to the ground near the fire, not caring if the flames adventured out and ensnared the leaflet; because no matter what, it would always show up later like a damned curse.

Forever the testament to mock the man he use to be.

He leaned back in the chair, feeling the dull ache within his chest where his heart use to be before it decayed into nothing. Subconsciously he dipped his long fingertips underneath the dress shirt, and placed them over the patch of scar tissue on his left pectoral.

 _"Why would you care, you were never there...after all of the times."_ Her words lingered, sweet nothings in his ear as he fantasized what she could have meant. Had she wished for him after she had defined her role within his life? Clearly she had not been so stupid, clearly she had known that she had cut her ties to him. Every inch of the ruler this wretched place had wanted.

Oh but the sly poison of what if.

His chest shuttered, trying as it might to support the vast darkness.

He was beginning to remember again, after all this time, after all of the forgetting.

 _"Wait! Look what I'm offering you... your dreams." The crystal ball, the underlying thing, his very heart_ **_materialized_ ** _within his fingertips._

_"and kingdom is great."_

_"I ask for so little, just let me rule you," a beg had befallen his lips as he moved back, feeling the pain shuttering through his chest. "and you have everything that you want."_

_"Kingdom is great...damn." She had looked off, her mind set, repeating the damn lines from the booklet as if they were a prayer upon her lips. "I can never remember that line."_

_He could feel the magic within the air, sharp-distinct, ready to seize the moment with a finalizing blow. He had made a mistake, everything around him was crumbling, and he couldn't tell her what she was doing. What she was risking._

_All of this was suppose to be a game, something that she needed...It was suppose to make her realize her love for him. This magic that they shared back before the damned booklet, before he even knew what she had meant to him._

_"Just fear me, love me, do as I say- and I will be your slave." He begged, wishing she would just listen for once. Look beyond the materialistic confines of a fabricated story._

_"My kingdom is great. My kingdom is great." She muttered before her bright green eyes flickered up to his, and he knew. Oh, he knew. "you have no power over me.."_

_He wavered, the crystal ball within his hands burning through his glove as he could feel it in the air. He let the ball fly, knowing that it would no longer find home within his chest, for a goblin is not allowed love._

_Not without risking many things_ _, like one's heart; for instance._

_And he had been so sure, so terribly sure that he could make her see. To make her accept this form of affection he had never experienced, or even seen with any other creature of the underground._

_Oh but this new and terrible thing, this_ _**infection** _ _had bested him. Shredding every ounce to every tie of his withering morality._

_That love that she had planted within his withering immortal chest- something that had kept him human for so long._

_The crystal ball shattered, the magic engulfing the air with a buzz of electricity._  


_"_ You have no power over me." The creature hummed as he settled back into his chair, admiring the flames nestled within the mouth of the fireplace _._ A soft cloudy haze filtered over his mismatched eyes as he weaved a web of memory against the scar tissue on his chest.

A clear crystal sat, broken into shards, within a vase upon a shelf on the wall. Nestled within darkness knowing that it could never be whole again.  
  
  
  
  
  



	19. Chapter 19

**_"I thought you'd never come."_ **

_His voice_ _swept over her as she felt the soft lips kiss the underside of her jaw, long fingertips gripping at her throat, guiding her to tip her head back and expose her throat to him._

_Her devil with the wolfish grin._

_She had not opened her eyes, but she knew it was him. The one in her dreams, the one that coaxed the secrets from her lips._

_"Of course I'd come." She whispered, throat raw and bobbing under the grip that had begun to tighten._

_"Why'd you go and leave me like that?" His voice slurred, deepening to something more familiar- a soft growl.  Her eyes flickered open just as the hand tightened, and she looked up into the shocking blue eyes of Rolan._

_He pulled her back to him, his arm wrapping around her waist possessively, as his teeth found the skin of her neck; just behind her right ear. She could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat through her back._

_A pinch and she could feel his teeth break skin, and a soft moan escaped her lips. From pain or pleasure she was unsure, all she knew was that he was everywhere. Clouding her senses with the rich smell of whiskey and leather._ _"Stop." She whispered._

_"You made me promise- you know?" He murmured, fingertips caressing the underside of her jaw. His tongue scraped at the wound he had caused; sending a sudden thrill down her spine._

_Confusion darted through her thoughts, confusion and the underlying trace of a sudden awareness in the way he pressed into her._

_"But I left, so you didn't break your promise." She mumbled, her head spinning from the pressure of his fingertips. Her vision spotted, and yet she didn't struggle to move away._

_"You don't understand. Do you?" A chuckle rumbled against her skin. She had been looking off into the darkness, the only light seemingly coming from him. He let her go, spinning her around to face him._

_His pupils dilated; turning the entirety of his iris black as night. "You made me promise to never leave you. Think about that. Think about the consequence of that." He was suddenly too much, too large, the smell of what reminded her of bourbon burned her nostrils._

_She was once again in his arms, crushed against his body, her head placed on his chest listening to the raging of his heart. "You are so selfish, Sarah. Always thinking of yourself, of the king- that you forget the lives you are endangering. You forget that the entire kingdom depends on you. That I depend on you."_

_Fear had begun to root deeper under her skin as she tried pulling back, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt, but he clung to her like tar. Drowning out everything but the need to get away. "Let me go- please" The sob cut from her and she was free, skidding backwards onto her back with blunt force. The pain was sharp, quick, sipping at her oxygen little by little to leave her breathless._

_"Oh, Sarah- Darling, I could never let you go." Rolan's features began to sharpen, stretching as if the bones couldn't contain themselves, and suddenly it wasn't the man she had come to know. It was the king of the Goblins himself, peering at her through filmy black eyes, mischief lingering like little nightmares at the shadowed planes of his face._

_"Your heart belongs to me." The animalistic growl echoed, ringing through her ears before he was upon her._

The scream awoke her, pulling her forward into a sitting position long enough to realize it was a dream. She trembled, blinking dumbfounded into the darkness of her room save for the flicker of the dying fire. She must have fallen asleep, she could feel the dried tears on her cheeks, and her eyes felt swollen.

How long had it been? The food was gone from it's place on the desk, but she was still wearing the same dress.

She climbed off of the bed, her bare feet hitting the cold floor that made her shiver. The sudden sensation of a cool draft of air swept in, sweeping across her like a gentle caress. The door, the door that had been locked- was now wide open. Revealing the mouth of darkness which peered back at her.

She could almost hear the attitude coming from Rolan as she started towards the door, her heart thrumming like hummingbird wings within her chest.

 _"Go back to your room, and I would advise you to not leave it. This castle is not safe for a child."_ Jareth's words mocked at the back of her mind, only driving her further and she was suddenly leaning out into the hallway. The darkness suddenly sparked to life, small balls of flame dancing upon their torches as if that was what they had been doing all along.

She stood for a moment, hesitating, before she walked out into the hallway. Curiosity burning at her heels.

A  skin crawling sob pierced the air, like a weeping banshee. Sending Sarah scurrying forward into the dimly lit hallway.

 _You don't know where you are going, idiot- what if this is a trap?_ Her mind echoed sending adrenaline pumping through her veins.

The sob commenced into a full fledged wail of pain, and it was only a matter of time before she was rounding the corner. Suddenly aware of how everything had changed since she had slept, it was no longer the king's study or whatever- it was an entirely different part of the castle.

Her heart thrummed harder, the feeling of nausea swirling through her like a warning.

"Please, please I know nothing." The cool and collective voice of a woman moaned into the darkness; pain evident in her words. Her voice seemed so familiar.

The soft light of a room filtered out into the hallway, a beacon in the darkness.

She was but a moth to the flame, as she drew near; listening to the panting. The subtle drip of something hitting the floor.

"You liar. You and I both know this, and yet you continue..." His voice drifted to her ears, freezing her to spot. A soft clicking noise filtered through the air, and suddenly she was peering into the room.

It was as if the room itself was bleeding, and the sight of it burned all the way to the back of her skull. Creating the buzz of a newborn headache.

Fear struck her there like a deer in headlights.

Jareth stood, bathed in blood like some beautiful hellish angel, the tips of his fingers playing with the either side of the woman's face.

The woman being no other than the queen of the damned, the Moor of the dead.

Moor looked shriveled up, drained, with nothing but skin and bones. Her beautiful horns broken, one wedged into her ribcage and the other in her shoulder.

From the amount of blood coating the floor, and the look in the woman's eyes; coaxed a soft gasp from the girl witnessing it all.

The sight of death herself worshiping the ground of another creature; re-lived itself like some grotesque film every time she closed her eyes. That is until she noticed the silence, the silence of the king.

This cruel king, who was now facing Sarah with every bit of a mad man's interest. 

"But you know, do you?" He cooed, slipping his fingers away from his victim who moaned in relief; suddenly hunching forward against her restraints as if she could not bare to stay conscious for a moment longer.

He began walking close, as if he were not exactly aware of the fact it was Sarah standing in front of him. His eyes flashed bright; a sign of sudden recognition. A predator in every sense that she was the prey.

"K-know what?"

He could only smile, the blood on him vanishing with the blink of an eye, and suddenly the image of the man she knew stood before her.

Long hair, beautiful eyes, the tall and lean- humanistic figure of the Goblin King. _Her goblin king_.

The sudden change brought on the hellish sense of complete and utter loss. Tears filmed over her eyes as she took a step back. Why would he play such a game right now?

What was his end goal?

"What do you desire Sarah?" His voice, a soft velvety purr struck her in place, as he gained ground, his fingers reaching out for her.

Everything was too surreal, the blood, the body of the woman who had practically saved her life. She swallowed back the lump of fear that threatened to suffocate her.

Words, she had to formulate words, but how could she play this game? What could she say to keep him from continuing his vengeance.

"I had always desired to be here...couldn't you h-hear my wishes- over a-all of these years?" She squirmed, and suddenly the soft caress of his fingertips curled around her jawline, and she could practically feel him pull the memories to the surface. 

And suddenly she was reliving them, always coming in from classes, only to crumple into the shell of who she had become. Crying- a constant feeling of emptiness as her nerves ate her up like some sadistic mange.

He read through them all, as if he were flipping through the pages of a book. Her feelings of being unwanted, of needing someone, of longing for the inevitable truth of the labyrinth. Time became an overwhelming sensation of being lost at sea; the waves licking with pain at her skull cavity.

And then he was pushing away from her, quickly stumbling back as if he had been electrocuted. Had he seen anything else?

She stumbled back and onto a bed, which she quickly realized was the bed to her room. 

He began to keen, a agonized wail of an animal in distress, and he was suddenly the creature he had been before his charade of imagery.

"Gods damn it Sarah, what have you done?" He howled, his eyes burning through the darkness. He looked so sad, so broken, as if the truth of it all was the biggest burden to him.

They stood and watched one another for a moment before some sort of emotion returned to his ethereal face. The formation of plans, the passion behind his eyes burned deep, and suddenly the fire in the hearth was raging; rattling like a musical choir of hallow bones.

"I don't understand" She was crying all of a sudden, tears streaming down her face.

"If I had known...all along about your condition- I would have never let you leave." His voice was grave, and then it hit her.

He knew she was dying, he felt her sickness.

He knew that with her death, she would be the end of the Labyrinth. Of him, and everything else in this magical world.

How was it that she became this important to be the jurisdiction. There had to be something more, something ancient about this pact of beating and winning against the king, than everyone was letting on. 

She could practically feel it now, the deep sense of an ancient breathing pact, and it was embedded within the magic.

"But it was my right to leave, just as it is now." She growled, suddenly more aware than she had been in months.

"Oh is it?" He turned on her then, the same look from her dream crossing over his features. Earning every ounce of his title of the king of goblins. "I think you lost your rights the moment you stepped back into _my_ realm- _my dear_." 

The feeling of the warping of time and space filtered through her and then they were suddenly standing within the throne room. Silence singing within the air.

"You have no power over me." She hissed, her green eyes glowing in the dim lit throne room of laborite and hell. She stood her ground, watching the man before her as he stopped proceeding towards her.

His face crumbled, and pain filtered it's way into his eyes. 

The mere presence of him sent a sudden thrill, and her heart was suddenly playing the organ to fear. All of the wishes she had made with hopes to be back in this very throne room, swarmed around her like little vultures.

This would be her last time here, and she knew it.

As if reading her mind, a laugh gurgled it's way through her turmoil; completely wiping every ounce of confidence she possessed.

He had changed, so much so, that the truth was raw and bare before her in the figure of an angel.

"Oh, my Sarah, you think that old trick would work again? Tsk Tsk."  
  
  
  
  



	20. Chapter 20

* * *

It was suffocating, really. One minute she had been before the king, and the next she was being swept into dance. 

It happened so quickly, the surroundings bleeding and running like ink on a page. The pressure of the shift created a loud audible crackle; making her ears pop and ring hopelessly.

Pure white emptiness engulfed her for a  moment before she felt _them_.

Hands. Pulling, grabbing, ripping into her garments with a newfound hunger she had never known before. And just as she thought shed be torn apart it had eased up like a gentle caress; a sort of fondness a lover would have.

Her feet subconsciously stepped with rhythm to the waltz, and the sickening realization of being controlled washed over her.

"So beautiful." The man who leaned too close for likes, grinned, feral in the most animal of ways. Making her tear her eyes away to examine her misfortune. 

It didn't take long to realize  from the swirl of masks, and the sticky sweetness of the music. That she was apart of the dream sequence of many nights ago.

The blend of gold and finery all but echoed through to her, from mirrored reflections, and objects that seemingly took solid forms out of the corner of the eye. Try to focus on any one thing made the forms shift and run; becoming both a mess of watercolor and memory.

It was enough to trigger the sense of motion sickness.

It would have been lovely if It were constructed and clear, but Sarah knew, she knew this was but a fine metaphor for the moment. Of course, this was reconstructed with the air of mishap and feral creativity, because it was real. All of it. This is exactly what it had been _that_ night, she realized.

But she had fallen with the mindset of a girl, finding true feelings for a creature who had preyed on those feelings. A vicious spider spinning his web to piece together what was needed for the fly.

She blinked, the muscles in her legs twitching from the lack of control.

The masks were gnarled husks, all jagged and demanding. Laughing at her from every direction; each fighting their way to get closer to her with their phony stances of finery. If they had been frightening the first time she had seen them, they were much more frightening now. Their humanoid figures gaping at her with large beady dark eyes. Pitch black, soulless things that watched with hunger.

" _She will save us_." They whispered softly to one another, blending harmoniously with the twist of the music. " _Shes the one."_

The music churned, like a gear, and the next pair of dark eyes were watching  her from behind goggled lenses of a plague doctor mask. The overly sweet smell of lavender burned the back of her throat, choking her as it pulled her closer. The amount of feral need that rolled from the creature before her numbed her enough to take the edge away from the fingertips that cut into the flesh of her wrists. This pain would be nothing.

She was to die tonight, and she knew. 

She couldn't feel her legs anymore as her body pressed closely, angled at an odd angle, her spine popping dully.  " _You look beautiful tonight, my queen_." The creature seethed, the crackled voice echoing from inside of the beak of the mask. Something teamed from underneath the beak of what appeared to be the leather of the disguise; if she were to concentrate hard enough, she would see pulse of maggots.

 _Goblins, they're goblins._ Her brain throbbed _._

She was passed to the next person, her vision spotting from the sudden swirl of colors. _What had happened just now?_   Her brain thought, rolling over the last few hours.

Had it been hours already?  Time was such a peculiar thing here, so much so, she wanted to giggle; to throw up from the absurdity.

The circus churned on, an unstoppable force that she could barely see, for all of the bleeding of colors. The small trickle of euphoria that flowed through her, mixing dangerously with the magic that clung to the air. And suddenly she was the little girl from all those nights ago, lightheaded and searching for the only familiar person she knew.

The music struck a chord, and like a dying chainsaw it whined down, giving way to the beautifully hollow thrum of a wooden string instrument.

As if on cue, the lone violin cut through, pulling her captor from his hiding hole.

White  flashed across her vision, and suddenly he was before her. Gentle gloves kissing the tenderness of her fingertips which, she had suddenly noticed, were bruised and bleeding.

The violin filtered through like a sad lullaby, reminding her of every night she had spent alone on the floor of her room; listening to the small music box her mother had left.

Gradually the finery fell away into the the twilight of the throne room. Revealing the truth underneath the web of lies. Leaving the duo dancing, completely alone save for the thing lurking in the shadows.

The darkness watched, alive and crackling with energy.

It all happened so quickly, the shift within the air. The tang of magic on the roof of her mouth, that left such a crude aftertaste of copper; which clung to the back of her throat.

She did not want to look up into his eyes, but  it was all she could see. Mismatched eyes grounding her, reminding her of the ache behind her sternum. Reminding her that he was truly gone.

The trickle of sense crafted the feeling of sleepy limbs gaining sensation, and she was suddenly more aware of his close proximity than ever before.

The soft rustle of the clothes, no longer bloody and the color of the night sky, something oddly comforting. The gloves stained with her blood had miraculously disappeared as if they had never been there at all, and instead it was the soft flesh of his cold hands grounding her. She could only stare, dumbfounded, caught up on the realization of his wardrobe difference; which was more toned down compared to his past decisions.

The deep velvet suit melted into their surroundings, giving way to the soft glow of pale skin, and pearlescent white hair that was much shorter- and somehow more wild than it ever had been. It was beautiful, although it was different- he was different.

So much change, but then again that's what happens over the years- right? 

His face had leaned ever so closely; the shadows kissing the sharp angles until he appeared more like a wolf than a man.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" A velvet purr left his lips, lulling her out of the fever, breathing life into her broken state. She inhaled through her nose, finding she was still in the predicament she had found herself in.

The true definition of puppet. 

"No." The word burned its way out of her throat, husky and raw. She had began to slip, slip back into the silly girl who got her into this mess.

"No?" He smiled, bringing the raw knuckles of her right hand up to his lips in a tender kiss, only to stain the pale skin with vermillion.  "how about this?"  He licked his lips.

And her world was falling, too absurd and fast, leaving her body to twist and turn like a rag doll.  Her skirts flailing around her in a loud ruffled flutter of purest of whites.

And just as suddenly as it happened, it stopped.

Her arm snapped, pulling out of socket with a splintered noise that echoed around her hauntingly.

A broken cry lurched free from cracked lips, as she blinked back tears, her fingers twitching as the muscle and bone screamed in agony.

And holding onto her was her only lifeline.

She weakly looked up, straining her neck to see through the spotting of her vision long enough to look up her arm and to a hand. The very hand attached to the man peering over the side of a cruel winding path of stairs; his eyes gleamed with the coldest of expressions. 

"To fall,  my dearest creature, would mean death." The king's voice crackled with fire, breaking into hundreds of haunting echoes, combining into a chorus of a murder of crows. The room  of the millions of stairs mocked with irony, pulling a hollow laugh as the nauseating pain threatened to pull her unconscious. She had long let go out of the instinct, and would have died if it weren't for the grip he had on her arm.

"You would risk your entire kingdom- the labyrinth, for this?!" She growled, confused, the pain evident enough that her voice had all but left her. "You've gone mad." 

His grip loosened just enough, to make her slip, until it was the soft caress of his gloveless fingers upon her own. The look on his face was hungry, a starving statue come to life.

"Accept me, be mine- and I will let you live." His voice choked out, jagged and hollow. Every ounce a madman.

"You're a monster!" Tears blinded her, and she could feel the soft flesh of her shoulder strain against her weight. Any longer and there would be permanent damage on the tendons there.

"Oh, but I could be yours- couldn't I?" A chuckle "Tell me Sarah, are you willing to die than to be my queen?"

"You can never own me." She seethed, as the darkness around them came to life, rippling as if being called on.

"You're still stuck on this false sense of status, you foolish girl. Like you have any power at all. Haven't you learned? You no longer have power over _me_." his grip all but let go, sending a pitiful cry from her chapped lips.

And then his fingers were clutching her again, nails digging into the flesh, taking the attention away from the shoulder. 

Her right arm sang in agony. 

"Time is ticking." He clucked, trying to appear bored, but failed. If it weren't for the nervous glint in his eye. He was willing to die, to kill her- to kill all of it. How could she even bring herself to ever care for him now?

This sadistic creature who resembled more of a goblin as time ticked by. 

A second longer.

The soft catch of breath, and the loss of his fingers upon her own.

"Times up." 

* * *

  


The Goblin Market was teeming with vivacity. Recoiling in all of the ways but the goblin; as it thrived chaotically- festering like a infected wound.

Rolan had made his way through cautiously, watching as many creatures bickered and bartered, each creature drunk on the idea of gambling; drunk on the idea of beating a goblin at his own game.

It had been late into the night when he had found his way to the outskirts of the market; all the while watching the castle like a hawk. The rose long tucked away into the deep leather jacket that kept him concealed. He had to stay out of context, for even goblins knew of _the Raven_.

Time passed, wasted.

He had paced at first, keeping in the shadows, watching the gate as the party of the market bellowed from behind him. And at some point he had all but watched the soft glow of faerie lights, flickering like balls of flame from their woven cages. Each time one realized who he was they would die out like a sputtering flame, only to rekindle later.

He had bored, heaving back the anxiety that he rarely felt, and started forward again. Finally getting the courage, after stealing a shot of something strong from a drunken heap of dwarf, who chortled a lazy tune of market pyre. 

The liquid courage was not enough, he discovered, as he reached the very gate of the castle itself. Something he had never dared to do willingly in all of his hundreds of years. It was said if one were to go in, one wouldn't come back out the same. Something he even remembered from his mother who had went to the king, begging to spare her sons life. Something long forgotten.

The scar tissue in his chest cavity ached at the memory, of the pain. 

He got close, getting as far as to speak with the guard, when it hit him.

The heavy underlying smell of ambrosia that clung to the molecules within the air.

The most ancient of all things, of magic. 

It was a rare magic, possessed only by the labyrinth itself, that and the king. 

It instantly made him lightheaded, making him shift uneasily from one foot to the other. The smell was nectar to his elven senses, numbing each sensation to one underlying thing. _Want_. And he knew, the magic laced at the gate was one gifted to the ones of longing.

The disease of desire struck the chord of loneliness within him, drowning him with the thoughts of many things. One thing in particular being Sarah.

Denial was quick to battle it, as he tried to push her from his thoughts.

It lulled him from the entrance of the gate and back to the comfort of the shadows.

His back dug into the cobblestone, and he knew he had fallen onto his back. Helpless, out of breath, feeling weak.

Something like shame swept through him, and then she was there; standing over him like some lovely heavenly creature.

"Sarah?" His voice slurred, and then she was gone.

He scrambled to his feet, huffing from the strain in his muscles that begged for rest. After all, he hadn't rested in all of the days of travel, where night and day came swift and uncounted.

He searched recklessly, a dull rattle throbbed where his heart should be.

And then she was there, in the market, a few yards away. White robes, piercing eyes enough to cut to the bone, and lips of crimson.

At first it seemed like an illusion, and perhaps it had been. But he couldn't find himself to care, not with this burden.

When was the last time he had seen her? Felt her presence? Known her safety. Known her _hate_.

Her hate so strong he could taste it. He all but mourned the taste. Thinking for half of a second that once he got close enough, he would just capture her; eat her alive- bones and all.

 _The king would not have let her go_. His mind counteracted, his instincts putting up all the warning signs. 

But how could he walk away from this woman?

Someone with a scowl as sharp as a sword, and beauty as bland as a blowfly. Even if she were practically glowing in the flickering faery-light. 

But she was beautiful, was she not? Had she been this entire time, and he had only trusted himself to ignore it? His gut twisted, and he was walking forward. 

A bounty hunter couldn't love a feeble human. 

"I _don't love her, I just...I just want. To be held. "_ He grumbled, the voices echoing so loudly within his head, that they had somehow taken life outside of it as well.

His heart gave a sickening thud within his chest, and he had begun to follow her, his white rabbit; through the frantic crowded streets. 

Every time he would get close enough, she would disappear,  a true will-o-wisp.

It wasn't until he was pulling her to him against the wall of the labyrinth itself, that he realized just how far away he had followed her. The goblin market had looked like glowing firelight from the gaping entrance of the maze itself. And something in him stilled, knowing, knowing the wrong in all of this.

But the thick coating from the magic stung the back of his throat, pulling the beast in him from it's cage.

Or maybe it was her, soft fingertips, crescent marks etched into his shoulder blades.

But it was worth it.

It was always worth it. _She_ was worth it.

Fuck the king, fuck the labyrinth. It was just them, in the soft haze of moonlight. The smell of earth and mineral clung to the moisture in the air as he leaned close, his body caging his small rabbit.

"Sarah, Sarah...I am so sorry- I shouldn't have pushed you away." The walls had fallen, and he was a mess. Such a mess of a man that he couldn't contain the nervous tremble wracking his limbs. Each breath burned with ambrosia, and he was so close.

She peered up at him, her eyes bright- clear, alive. And she was so small, such a fragile hopeless thing. So human. But she wasn't speaking, just watching him, and he knew. He knew this was only a figment, an illusion crafted from his weak brain, crafted as a defense mechanism for the castle.

But damn it, the moon sang against her skin, and if he didn't touch her soon he would die.

And she was kissing him, her lips soft, her fingernails digging into the flesh of his cheeks. Because he was stupid and he deserved the pain, because he let her go. He let her go. 

He growled, pushing her into the wall, hoping to crush her. Hoping to prove to her that he wouldn't let her leave. Because actions always spoke louder than words, and he knew that now. And he was definitely going to die if she continued to breathe, little hiccups of surprise, in his ear as he trailed fire across the soft flesh of her neck.

She was so cold, but he would make her warm. Yes, because this was her. This was real. Real real real.

He would save her, make her better, he would keep her even if it meant he would be damned.

A deep rumble crackled, and the look of fear in her eyes was enough for his fantasy to snap. The sudden feeling of the end washed over him as he watched this beautiful illusion crumble into dust, splintering his soul.

The labyrinth, something was _wrong_.

The sweet taste of magic had all but disappeared, turning into ash and rot in the back of his throat.

The air changed, turning acidic, pulsed warningly through the air. Threatening to set the entire world on fire.

Something was happening, Sarah was dying. He could feel it, the deep ancient fear. The labyrinth threatening to collapse.

He hadn't realized he was running, the fastest he had ever run in his life. Foolish, he had been so damn foolish. 

He cursed himself, throwing himself through the vacant lot of the goblin market, which had suddenly disappeared mid act. Everything left in a disarray as if everyone had disappeared into thin air.

He continued, not stopping, his boots pounding against the cobblestone with harsh slaps. And he was suddenly so close, the gate within his grasp.

Until it wasn't any more.

The thread had been snapped. It was the end, she was _dying_.

His body slammed into the hard wood of the gate, splinters breaking off into flesh as his knuckles rasped into the wood.

Everything was crumbling, the air had gone eerily silent, and he knew. He just _knew._ A roar crawled its way from his throat, and he could feel himself shift. The smoldering burn of anger fueling him, mixing with the pain of flesh and bone.

And then he was flying, cutting through the air like a blade, the feeling of the end dawning with each second.

The scream of the owl warned him seconds before the impact did.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	21. Chapter 21

* * *

 

 

 

She could have defeated him, once and for all. Allowed the whisper of the wind to whistle past her in a caress.

But she was selfish, and death had been waiting for her for far too long, to get her this easily.

So, she agreed- she gave him her word, as simple as that. 

And falling had never felt as good as being caught, even if it was by the devil himself.

Just remembering it was shameful enough, so she focused on the way the silk of the comforter brushed up against her tired limbs, and the fact that she had awoken in unknown territory.

Moonlight danced in through the open maw of a window, bathing the figure that stood on the balcony just beyond it with ethereal light.

She blinked back the haziness of dreams, and pulled the covers closer to herself as if they would shield her from the king himself.

He stood so completely still, that it gave her emotional whiplash. Had it been only hours before that he was threatening her life? Threatening the entirety of the Labyrinth and the Underground?

She swallowed dryly.

"So it was true, all of it." His voice rasped, and for a moment she thought she had been imagining it. With one blink she'd seen him at the window, and the next his face was inches from hers, pupils blown wide as they greedily sucked her in.

"W-what do you mean?" Was all she could say when she felt the covers slither away from her, leaving her vulnerable to the cold.

"Your memories," He seemed to purr, his nostrils flaring at the newfound fear seeping from her heart. He was so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek. "Your...sickness." He emphasized the _sick_ as if it were poison on his tongue.

She couldn't think straight, not with how his arms pressed in close on either side of her, caging her in. She just sat there staring at the sharpness of the planes of his face. His eyes stayed trained to her own, not once blinking or looking away. It wasn't until she nodded that he even seemed to _breathe_.

And what surprised her more was that he had shuttered, a sharp inhale tugged its way to the back of his throat, and he was pressing in closer. His body pressing into hers enough to not suffocate her, but enough to keep her in place. The long bony fingers (of his right hand) had come up to her jaw to trace her jugular as he continued to shudder as if he were cold. 

The faintest hint of perspiration dewed up upon his forehead and cheeks as he continued to watch her before swallowing loudly. "What are you doing to me Sarah?" He whispered, his voice cracking with emotion she had never seen before. 

He had never looked so human. With the light of the moon glinting off of the darkness of his eyes, which had become so dilated that she couldn't quite see their natural color. She subconsciously brought the hand up (the hand that he'd somehow fixed) and lightly pressed the palm against the side of his face, cupping it.

Because she needed to know this was real. That it wasn't some dream.

Slowly his hand trailed from her throat, and to her collarbones before leaving her flesh all together to grab her hand from his face. He did it in a way that was slow and deliberate. Enough not to scare her although she already scared, but she couldn't deny the feelings surfacing. The feelings of the young girl caring for the king of mischief. She would always care for him, she decided, even if it was no good for her.

They seemed to settle low in her stomach, and tug at her heart strings as she watched him place her hand on the soft flesh of his chest. His white button-up shirt hung from his body, giving her the view of the vulgarly scared flesh. 

She sat up, pushing him to sit on his haunches, as her hand trailed the knotted flesh. 

But apparently that was not what he wanted her to see, no, with how his hand pressed hers firmly against his chest cavity she could see what he meant.

The beating of his heart rapidly punched at her palm, it was so powerful that she wondered if the action didn't hurt at all. But it was confusing, all of it was confusing.

She blinked back in surprise, snatching her hand back in the process as she watched him. Watched as thin streams of vermillion rained from the tear ducts of his eyes, of his nostrils, ears, and the edges of his mouth. He looked so heartbreakingly young in that moment, the whites of his eyes showing within the moonlight, as he continued to shake violently. 

"What are you doing to me?" He whined his voice splitting into several different octaves before his eyes shot up to look back into her own.

As soon as it was there- _he_ was there, it had disappeared, a switch beckoning the monster.

And he was upon her again, a deep growl rumbling in the back of his throat as he bloodied the bedsheets and the white nightgown she had been changed into at some point. 

"You promised." She hissed as she felt teeth graze the side of her neck, and shuttered with fear.

He stilled, his voice rumbling against her, reminding her that he was closer than comfort. He was waiting for her to continue.

"You said you would let me live, th-that if I became y-yours then you'd let me live." Her voice cracked as pure anger washed through her. How dare he make her feel so weak, so small, when he was the one quite literally losing his mind. Why had he tortured Morr? Why had he done all of these things that pointed to Sarah being in his grasp; that when she was finally there he was reluctant and unforgiving?

What did he want?

"What is it that you want Jareth?" She said, her voice deadly calm as she fought from recoiling from the monster above her. She tried to rationalize with herself that she couldn't forget the fact that the last time she had been conscious that he was quite literally torturing a friend. How did this even make any sense?

The question itself made him withdraw from her all together, and she found him by the bedside, all of the blood on his face had dried and cracked. He was looking away from her with all of his muscles tense. Both of his hands flexed in what she assumed to be a nervous twitch of self composure.

"No one has ever asked me that before." He stated, not looking at her as he ran one of his large hands through his hair, streaking the white with red that made the short hair stick up at awkward angles. But he was still bleeding?

Her eyes flickered to the button up shirt, and noticed that the scar tissue just where his heart should have been, was bleeding profusely.  _But it had been just a scar moments before_ she thought, her own heart aching painfully within her chest. 

 

 

She had awoken with a start, her lungs tight and unforgiving, her hands clawing at the bedsheets.

 _Just a dream, it was just a dream_. She told herself, the mantra playing brokenly within her thick skull. Blurry tear stained eyes trained on vermillion, soft petal sized drops of blood, trailing along the white comforter.  

When she moved, the blood on her neck itched and cracked. 

Her throat burned, and quickly she scanned the room to find the king. He was not there, but the sunlight was. 

The window had been shut, but the sheer lace curtains were never drawn. As if he had stood long after she had found unconsciousness. 

Wide, frightened eyes pulsed just at the surface, as she remembered. Seeing him like that, afraid and vulnerable, it was the youngest she had ever seen him. It seemed he had gone back within the years, reliving a sort of fragmented memory.  

Like a _ghost_. 

He had been like a ghost caught in memory. Caught in time and space only to be tormented with having to replay it over and over again. 

But he was very much real, as real as he had been the night before, as real as the first time shed seen him. She missed his human form, but she decided that the form he took now...the _creature_ , was far more real, far more _familiar_. 

Something ached within her chest, as she pulled herself from the bed to scan the surroundings. 

The room was, to put it in simple words, extraordinary. Massive pillars of marble and crystal swirled and blended with deep shades of every earth tone imaginable. It was as if looking into a hallowed out tree, with thousands of roots twisting and jutting out to serve as furniture.

The room was massive, as was the bed with it's white silk sheets, and what looked to be wolf pelts. It was all too much to take in, too many details adding onto the already worn state of mind.

"Good you're awake." The phooka clipped, appearing inside of the door, her eyes glinting maliciously for a moment as she assessed Sarah's state of being. "King said I should bring you some food. So I thought I'd bring you some fruit." The woman walked in further, her appearance that of a young redheaded woman. 

"I- I don't feel good." Sarah replied, watching as a cart of fruit rolled in along with a massive bird cage veiled with black cloth.

"Oh, and he told me to bring ya a thank you gift for saying yes to the throne." The red head smiled, thin lips stretching so wide that it looked unnatural on her face. Fully ignoring Sarah's inquiry about health. Viola wheeled it all in, placing the fruit on the bed before picking up the bird cage.

Plucking what looked to be a berry from it's stem, Sarah watched quietly as Viola brainstormed where it was best to put the cage. It was a fairly large cage, no doubt holding a large bird.

 _Maybe it is an owl._ She thought before Viola began speaking up.

"Apparently this thing was caught by one of the owl's last night." She began, voice soft and feathery where it had been rough and scratchy days before. "It was going mad, never seen a raven as mad as that one before. The thing was crazy, really, fighting until the black of it's feathers was matted with blood. Poor thing, the king said something about magic. Said to give it to you as a gift- but I think it should be dead, smells like goblin trickery. Nasty smellin'" She had walked around the room before decided she'd put the cage on the dresser closest to the window. "I cleaned him up for ya though."

Sarah watched, absentmindedly plucked a few more grapes, not realizing how hungry she had been after all this time. She watched as the woman set the cage down, and left just without another word. As if the room would swallow her whole if she stayed long enough.

But Viola had not taken the veil off of the cage, and Sarah found herself on her feet. Her body feeling surprisingly good despite the fact that she'd been thrown around like a rag doll the night before. 

She trailed a path from the monstrosity of the bed and to the large cage that was eerily silent. So silent that the thought of uncovering to find the bird dead was making her not want to uncover it at all.

But she had to. 

Small pale hands grasped the threaded material of the cloth.  _It was going mad._ Viola's word's floated in around her, making her hand tremble with anticipation. It was just a bird, wasn't it? 

 _I would go mad too, if one of the King's owls caught me._ She thought, her pulse quickening. 

She ripped the cloth from the cage, the metal singing as if she'd withdrawn a blade. Magic, the cage was magic, but hadn't the phooka said that the bird was magic too?

Her eyes honed in onto the piercing jet black eyes of a raven, which stilled at the brisk encounter. It stilled, and made a soft choking noise in the back of it's throat. The bird was lovely, so lovely, as they both stood watching one another.

It wasn't until the bird humanely dipped it's head, that she'd realized what she was wearing. A brief wave of self consciousness fluttered through her before she swallowed it down. 

_Its just a bird. Just a bird._

It began to flutter within it's cage. Violently, trying with all of it's might as it began to repeatedly bang it's body into the side of the cage.

 _Did the sight of blood make it go crazy_? She blinked, instinctually backing away with her hands clutched to the side of her dress.  _stupid, it's just trying to get out of it's cage. Wouldn't you want to be free?_

A moment's pause and a new reformed idea pulsed through her, giving new vigor to her step. 

Yes, she'd let it free, it just wants to be free. 

She walked forward, trembling hands reaching out to the metal of the cage, trying to ignore the blood and feathers. 

"I wouldn't do that." A cool and collect voice calmly quipped. "if I were _you_."

She didn't have to turn to realize who it was, instead she replied. "and why not? If something wants to be free, then why not set it free?"

"Because some things are best contained."

"Then why would you give it to me?" She turned finally, finding the king standing there. Eyes looking past her to the raven who had begun to scream loudly. 

Jareth was silent for a few moments. 

"Why would you give me something dangerous?" She hissed once more, drawing his eyes from the bird and to the blood scattered all over her dress.

His eyes finally met hers before he smiled. It was a soft smile, one that just simply pulled at the corner's of his lips. "Because you've always been good at taming beasts."

They both fell silent, staring at one another, ignoring the faint piercing cries that sounded too human and too broken.

"Do not take him out of his cage, if you know what is good for you. The metal is furnished with magic, so it needs magic to be broken or else you'll risk a limb trying to get him out." His words were cold and his smile was gone. "but he is a beautiful creature, is he not? He simply _matches_ you in every aspect."

She stood still as the king walked forward, brushing past her before he was bending to glare at the bird. A cat looking at a canary. "and if you continue scaring my _queen,_ then I will strip your voice and clip your wings. You do not want that, do you?"

The bird shut up almost instantly from the threat. And Sarah found it extremely odd for a bird to be able to understand so well.

 _Magic._ Magic she thought, trying to ignore the fact that he'd called her queen. Trying to ignore the fact that she was in their bedroom covered in _his_ blood.

How she wish she could wish it all away, but it wasn't as simple as that any more.

Her wishes would only die on dry lips for they no longer held power.

The feeling from the night before washed over her, of the way her eyes had rolled back with pain when the words  _yes, yes i'll be your queen_ escaped her lips. Sealing her doom, but saving her from death.

It was that sudden pain, something that she could maybe compare to a car crash or a gun wound. It happens, quite suddenly, and then it is all you've ever known. Something that could never be undone.

She turned, watching the two creatures in front of her stare at one another. Something was passing between them. Curiosity from Jareth, but pure uncontained hatred from the raven. It frightened her seeing something so human come from an animal.

She felt so strange just standing there. Why wasn't she fighting? Why wasn't she cursing his name and demanding he let her and her raven go.

_Her raven._

She wanted to laugh at the absurdity.

"You should just let him go." She whispered, more to herself. The bird looked to her, breaking it's glare towards the king.

"If I let him go, then I would have to kill him." The king's voice rumbled softly, his face so tenderly closed off from emotion.

"No you don't."

He looked up at her. "He trespassed and killed _my_ owl, what I have done for him is more generous than what should have been done."

And she finally realized exactly why she wasn't trying to find her way out of her own cage. The cage that had become all of the Underground, the cage that had become the Goblin King. She was tired, so tired of fighting. 

She could feel it in her bones, in her heart, that she couldn't fight any more. Fighting would be useless.

"okay." She nodded, turning away from her new pet to look out the window. " _Thank you_ for him."

She licked her lips, turning back to see the surprise in Jareth's eyes.

"For not killing him, I mean." Her voice was so soft, and she watched as it made a muscle jump in his face.

 

  ** _Will you always be mine, and mine alone? Will you owe me that? Let it be a favor in return of your thanks._**

 

A voice ruptured through her, bubbling up through the tresses of her mind. Nausea rattled through her as if she'd been hit by a bus. 

Firm hands caught her before the floor did. 

 

 

 

 

_"Why is it that you let me be the prince? Aren't you an actual prince?" The little girl smiled, her lips smeared with juices from an apple that she now chewed on._

_"Because, it suits you better than I." The little boy, watching her as he always watched her, smiled as well. She liked it when he smiled. The pull of his lips and the canines of his teeth glinted like blades, but it never made her fear him._

_"I don't think that's true." She giggled, swinging her legs, as they sat upon the highest branch of the old oak tree just outside of her window. The night had begun to settle in around them, and the height should have made her queasy and afraid. But he would never let her fall. "I think you make a beautiful prince!"_

_The soft pale flesh of the boy's cheeks blossomed into a faint red color as he looked away from her and to his hands. She thought she said something wrong and stopped swinging her legs._

_When she'd first seen him on the side walk just outside her house, a little older than she, she had thought it odd to see a boy so wiry and thin. No baby fat, nothing that served as a healthy sign to a child as young as he, but she had thought, deep down, that she could have it no other way._

_The high cheekbones of his face, the sharp nose and chin. The way his hair seemed to defy the logic of gravity. The way his frame stretched tall like a reed, and the inhuman way his eyes would flash. He should have frightened her, but instead he seemed to draw her in._

_Which was why, the deep upset in her stomach curdled at his silence. Sarah Williams had always been one to voice her mind, and rarely had a filter when it came to her beloved friend. So when the word beautiful flitted across her brain, it simply spilled from her lips._

_He was beautiful, the type of beautiful that mama had talked about when they listened to the eerie music on the radio. The type of beautiful that comes in dusk or in thunderstorms._

_He continued to stare at his hands, the cheeks of his face a bright red, and more startlingly human than she'd ever seen. Was what she said_ _truly so wrong? Her mind raced along with her heart as she set the apple down beside her. She hadn't out right called him beautiful, but she felt like she had._

_"I think you're beautiful Sarah Williams." His voice murmured, stilling her and pulling her in at the same time._

_It was her turn to feel the heat creep up her neck and to her cheeks._

_Both children were old enough to feel the weight of the words, but too young to really know what they meant._

_"Why is it, that youre always so sad?" She said suddenly, wanting to push away the feeling that now settled upon her. She wanted to know things tonight, and she was sure to pry them from him before he had to go._

_He finally looked back up to her and without missing a beat said: "It is because I am so lonely."_

_"But why?"_

_"It is because there are no other's like me where I come from." His eyes were sad._

_"But why is that?" Her brow furrowed._

_"Because..." He paused, his jaw rolling as if he were considering the question. "well because no one has ever lasted this long. I am too human." His voice spit the word human out as if it were sin._

_"I like you enough though." She smiled, her sticky hand reaching out to take his own. She didn't understand what he meant, but she went with it anyways. "and if it makes you feel any less alone, just know I will always be your prince."_

_She watched as something fluttered through his eyes, and suddenly his hand was tightening over her own. She would have winced if she didn't think she'd look like a wimp._

_"Would you rule by my side?" His voice was feverish. "So I could never be alone again, that is."_

_"of course." She said ,as if it were the most sure thing in the world._

_"Even if you forget me, even if I am much older and scarier than I am now?" His voice was so soft but the words were there, winding her in. Confusing her._

_How could she ever forget him? Why would he grow older and scarier?_

_"How could I ever forget you?" She asked, mindlessly pushing his questions aside with her curiosity. She could see it irritate him, but he swallowed and replied to her._

_"I can feel it. A girl like you. You'll forget me."_

_It was her turn to squeeze his hand, she could feel her nails breaking his skin and waited for him to pull away when he only smiled._

_The darkness had settled upon them now, and the glow from her bedroom was just enough so that she could see his face. His eyes glistened within the night, and each time the light would hit them the right way they would reflect like an animals._

_It should have scared her, but it didn't._

_"If I ever forget you." She whispered. "I want you to make me remember. Promise me that."_

_Her pinky finger came up, and Jareth smiled. (For the little girl had just recently taught him of pinky promises). "Only if you promise to rule by my side, through it all."_

_"Then I promise." Her voice demanded and their fingers intertwined._

_They promised, and she was sad to see him have to go back to wherever he came from. He never told her, and he never dared to show her his world._

_She was always sad to see him go after he wordlessly helped her into her room from the embrace of the tree, something he always did to ensure she was safe._

_After he left, her parents came into the room with worried eyes and silly talk of her illusions._

_"You're getting too old to play pretend Sarah." Her father had said as her mother glanced worriedly to the tree just beyond Sarah's window._

_"You mustn't be so reckless." Her mother inquired._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something short and sweet. 
> 
> I'm so grateful for all of the love this story is getting, you guys are truly amazing.
> 
> And just know that I will be updating the story more frequently.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> " Lay beside me, tell me what they've done  
> Speak the words I wanna hear, to make my demons run  
> The door is locked now, but it's opened if you're true  
> If you can understand the me, then I can understand the you."
> 
> \- "The Unforgiven II" by Metallica

 

**_"Would you rule by my side? So I could never be alone again, that is."_ **

**_"Of course."_ **

**_"Even if you forget me, even if I am much older and scarier than I am now?"_ **

**_"How could I ever forget you?"_ **

 

_Her words had played like a song, plucking at the chords to his heart with talented knowing fingers._

_Their time together, it had all lead up to this, to this sure footing on the path to their future together._

_The little boy knew he had little time, that he must visit the woman of the woods, that he must stop the eroding of his heart._

_You see, it was a tale as old as time, a factorial **truth** that spread like a disease amongst the people of the Underground; that the fae did not feel the same range of emotions as humans. They could not love, hurt, hate or any of the lovely little poetic passions of the mortal. One could feel love, but it was not the burning ache of desire that the mortal's liked to wage wars over. No, it was a dark love, one full of teeth and claws that more than likely resulted in death._

_The fae did not love. They did not sacrifice. They only coveted and pondered; they took too much too freely._

_But the little boy, after feeling the moth's within his stomach flutter, knew he was in love._

_This was why Jareth, the King of Goblins , dreaded the subtle change into immortality._

_His mortal made him **feel** things. She made what little mortality he possessed within him, surface with just with a smile- a laugh._

_From the silent rumors of the trees, he had listened long enough to learn the tale of the woman of the woods. A young nymph who had fallen in love with a mortal man._

_The young nymph of the oldest tree within the oldest forest, possessed the deepest darkest magic of all and that was to grant wishes. ._

_The tale, from what he had acquired, was that the little nymph had wished for love only to be cursed with little time. Her lover had died as soon as she was able to hold him within her arms._

_It was the rumor of the trees as heartbreaking as it was, for how silly was it for the woman of wishes to wish for something so strange? So profound?_

_But he understood, didn't he? For he had a wish, a wish so dark and strange that it ate at him, and it had become so possessive of his thoughts that he had wasted little time to seek her out._

 

 

 

_It should have been so strange, a young little boy standing within the oldest forest of the Underground, with nothing but the clothes on his back and the dagger on his side._

_He had appeared earlier that morning, unsettling the dark creatures of the trees, and had begun to walk the path of the forgotten to the mother tree of Dreams._

_The day churned and he had yet to reach his destination, but he did not stop. He knew the trickery of the forest, of listening to the old songs and creaking of branches, to know that the trees moved._

_He should have been afraid, and yet he was not, for he had a mission and a passion that lapped at his heart like angry waves._

_Hours ticked on the clock of time._

_The forest was haunting enough during the daylight, but had become seemingly more endangering as the day settled into dusk._

_It was the same time he would meet Sarah, he'd realized, just as the forest began to shift and change around him._

_Tall trees as black as tar stretched from the vibrant green moss underfoot, stretching so high into the sky that it was all one could see, especially to a little boy not yet old enough to be a man._

_But he did not stop, he could not stop, even as gnarled roots stuck up, twisted and beckoning with long thin needle like brambles. The forest was eating him, he'd realized, after passing into a particularly dense thicken of thorns which cut into the thin material of clothing._

_He was bleeding, burning from the startling twist of blood thirsty trees, and aching from the long trek of walking. He would not use magic, no, he had planned to offer himself just as any other creature._

_He was not here to battle the forest, for he was the forest._

_The moons blanketed the sky, sending small slivers of ghostly light into the canopy of knotted branches and red leaves which fell like small droplets of blood._

_The moss had died long ago into hungry dark sand that glittered like thousands of diamonds against the light of the moon, it was just as beautiful as it was unsettling, because the more he had walked the more it seemed like the forest was dying. But it was not dying, it becoming more and more alive._

_A heavy fog rolled in, collecting dew on massive webs of spider silk that glimmered dangerously against the peeling branches of thorns and trees._

_Soft laughter of a creature echoed somewhere far off, sounding like the laugh of a child, and too much like the laugh he had come to love._

_He kept walking._

_He walked until the soft sand began to blister the bottoms of his feet, and sweat clung to the wispy hair's around his face._

_Every time he would move, the small rips within his pale flesh would burn, and when anyone else should have stopped he only edged further in._

_Let the forest eat him, let the woman of the woods take him and splinter him on the sharpest thorn, if only it meant she could listen to his one wish._

**_Young Prince, why have you come so far when the throne should be where you sit?_**

_The voice had echoed, ringing off of the trees, trembling the ground in which he had finally stopped. It was the voice of the wind, the water, the land. Octaves of every song and vibration._

_A mountain of a tree stretched tall just as it did wide, it's branches so massive they twisted upon the ground like long tentacles. The tree of Dreams bathed it's glorious ink skin within the moon's glow, harboring tiny flickering fire light of thousands of will-o-wisps, and revealing a woman._

_She lingered within the hollow of the mother tree before stepping into the night._

_The nymph stood upon long legs of twisted bark which sang every time she moved, her lean body covered in cobwebs and moss, she looked down at the little boy as if she had known every little secret he possessed._

_"I have come to bargain for a wish, my lady." He curtsied, knowing he shouldn't, for the prince should never bow to another creature (for what the laws of the kingdom implied). The youth of Jareth could not see himself any more important as the creature in front of him._

**_A wish, a wish, a wish?_ ** _The solid white of her eyes glittered devilishly as she pulled a long strand of black moss from her face. She assumed the position of boredom, but he could tell that she was entranced. Ever the curious of why the future king of the underground could possibly need a wish. For the amount of magic he had, he could grant wishes too._

_One could not grand one's wish._

_"Yes, a wish."_

**_What is it that you wish for my child?  For if it is truly as important as I believe it is, you must be wary, for every wish comes a bargain. Not every wish can be beautiful._ **

_Something within the woman's eyes shuttered and yet she did not move._

_"I am in love." He began, his small hands coming up to his chest as if readying to catch his heart from fluttering away. "With a human girl...she has captured my heart, oh wise one."_

_The nymph stood silently, assessing him for he did not make a wish._

_He fought with words, because he had no idea where to begin. How to say the feelings that swarmed underneath his skin._

_Magic prickled the air, rising the flesh on his arms into little bumps._

_"I wish to stay human, to keep my title, and my magic." He announced, knowing that he could have wished it differently. He could have wished to be with the mortal girl forever, he could have wished for her to love him until the ends of time, but he knew that wishes had a funny way of becoming. And he couldn't live if he knew that Sarah only loved him because of a wish, no, he would earn her love; and if she were to never become his at least he could continue loving her until the ends of time._

_The nymph breathed in, her bones and flesh creaking like bones rubbing together, and smiled. The woman of the woods stood there for a moment watching the little boy._

**_You will remain immortal, but you shall keep your human feelings child. I know what you do is for the mortal girl, and I must tell you that the price you must pay is a painful one._ **

_He blinked, watching as the woman turned, confused that she had not granted his wish. The nymph disappeared into the darkness of the tree trunk for a few moments, before coming back out with a young boy in her arms._

_He was long and thin, covered in rags, as he slept within the arms of the woman of the woods. His flesh was sickly pale, and by the looks of it he appeared to be knocking on death's door._

_It took a few moments before she spoke again._

**_I found this orphan within my woods, abandoned and left to die._ ** _The creature shuttered and looked down at the boy within her arms as if he were her own child. Jareth thought it to be a strange sight, for woman and boy were opposite in comparison. But then again it had always been odd to the creatures of the Underground to have a human for a Prince and soon to be King. **I have grown fond of him, but I have realized that he is the blood of both human and elf. The human within him is too weak to fight the disease of our kind, and he is dying. Just as all half-breeds are meant to die, in our world, unless they have perfect balance.** She was looking up at Jareth now, her cloudy white eyes burning into his retinas like two morbid light bulbs._

  ** _My bargain for you, Jareth the prince and soon to be King of Goblins, is I shall grant your wish to remain human. But you shall have to give up half of your goblin heart. You shall live within your world and appear just like the fae you are meant to become, but you shall possess the heart and emotion of a mortal. You will possess this gift for as long as you do not fall to a broken heart, and hearts do break- my child. Just like the crystal balls you play with. If you do fail, and your heart breaks, your wish shall be undone and you shall fall victim to the untamed brutality of what is expected._**

_Silence, and the little boy gulped._

_"What is to become of half of my heart?" His fingers had found the flesh of his chest. "Will I die?"_

_The nymph of the wood chuckled, leaning down long enough to lay the little boy in her arms down. **No child, magic shall keep you alive. And your heart shall go into the chest of this child, for when I look at him I know that he is meant for life.**_

_Something within the little boy prickled, and he knew it to be pure irritation. Why would he give up half of his heart for a complete stranger? How absurd was it that he would be giving something up for the nymph's own selfishness and curiosity._

_But it hit him, just as lightning hits a tree, she is asking for a sacrifice. The first step into proving love for another. The first step into shedding the selfishness of the goblin magic thrumming through his heart._

_"Why is it that he gets to have a whole heart, and I will only have half?" He spoke, his voice so soft that the nymph had to lean closer to hear him._

**_His heart is too sick. Why would I give my future king a dying heart?  Rest assure boy, you need no heart for the throne that you are burdened to take. The Labyrinth herself would have rotted the human within you soon enough._ **

_He understood as he watched the woman peer down at the boy against the forest floor._

_He did not say anything for a long time as he listened to the rattled breath of the stranger._

**_I do not lie when I say that you shall fall victim, my dear_** _the nymph began as she watched the boy watching the stranger. **It shall be brutal, even more so when you do not possess half of your heart. You will become a monster, and I am afraid nothing will bring you back.**_

_It was a warning, and he knew it. Something in her voice almost pleaded with him to turn around and trek back to the castle. Back to the lonely nights and broken nightmares. Back to meeting Sarah where day turns to dusk, and living the short and bitter sweet moments with her. Knowing that there would come a time he would stop showing up, a time where he would look at her and see food instead of a lovely little girl._

_His heart panged violently within his chest, tattooing his ribs in a mock of fear._

_He knew he'd do anything for her, for his little mortal, even if it meant giving up half of his heart._

_Maybe, his mind conjured as he swallowed the lump in his throat, maybe she will love me so much that it would make up for missing half of a heart._

_The look in his eyes must have said it all for the woman spoke loud and clear, piercing the night air like a great horned owl._

**_Do you, my King of Goblins, accept my bargain?_ **

_"Yes, my lady," He declared, having to look up at her towering form, "I accept your bargain."_

_The magic sapped at the air, milking his words in a way that made him both breathless and exhilarated. It sizzled against his skin, and all too suddenly every fiber of his being **felt.**_

_He could feel the thrum of enchantment.  Even more so, he could feel the ache deep within his soul, where as moments before it had only been within his chest._

_The moment of happiness died within him, when he watched the lady of the woods pull out a long shear blade, and took to cutting into the fabric of cloth draped on the stranger's body._

_Ripping noises of fabric gave way to the morbid noise of flesh meeting blade, of bone breaking._

_A loud irreversible sound echoed within the dark woods, a sound so deep, it was the steady thrum of promises. The steady thrum of the death and birth of something completely new._

 

 

Pain, pure unadulterated pain.

A savage burning within his chest that felt too akin to sticking long needles into skin.

It happened every time he looked at her, and it was happening now as he sat and peered down at her sleeping form.

 _"Thank you."_ She had said, just as every silly mortal who forgets what the rule of the fae does. He would have laughed, if it had not been for the fact that he had to catch her when she fell.

She was sick, very sick, it would only make sense that she had become fragile.

It did not stop him though, for doing the things he had to do. He could remember it all clearly. 

The smell of fear that pulled from her lungs upon seeing him bathed in Morr's blood. Of having to relive every single memory she allowed for him to access.

He was going to eat her, kill her off, do something to get rid of the reminder of broken bargains. But then he realized how important she was, of how sickness ran through her veins and ate her up from within.

Jareth could not bare with the knowledge of knowing anything other than him could snuff out her life. She was his to take, in every aspect.

And who was she, to allow his kingdom to become nothing but ash and dust? How could she keep that knowledge from him for so long?

It had happened so quickly and he had to play on her fear, because that would have been the only way she would have accepted his hand. Yes, it was the only way.

She'd hate him forever now, but as long as she was safe and alive here within his grasp, everything would be okay. He'd allow her to hate him if it meant for her to live, for the kingdom to flourish, and the Underground to continue.

He watched the dark lashes flutter against her pale freckled cheeks and fought the urge to suffocate her. To swallow her screams with his lips.

He longed to taste her flesh, and fantasized of how the salt of her tears would taste against her cheeks. 

No, he was to keep her safe. Long enough to rid of the sickness, long enough to realize why the shriveled up half heart within his chest _ached_.

 

A soft chortle from the other side of the room broke his reverie, and his eyes flicked over to the raven.

  _I must be forced to pluck every feather to figure out why it is you are so familiar. Why it is you come searching._

A smile broke his face, and he could feel the skin in his cheeks burn from the effort. 

 

 

 


	23. Chapter 23

 

 _It was just a dream._  

_Just a dream._

 

She could feel it though, in the back of her mind, clawing at her and begging her to set it free.

Sarah Williams knew that the vision she had seen was no dream, it was a memory, a _memory_.

She awoke with a start, heart thrumming in her chest, and decided that she had slept long enough. All she had done this far was to fall victim to unconsciousness.

She needed to be awake, she needed to find answers to these questions.

Quickly she tore from the bedsheets, trying to ignore the black spots inking her vision, and fumbled on half asleep limbs over to the dresser just across the room.

She was winded, her breath haggard within her chest, and her mind still held captive within the memory of a little boy and a little girl,  on the tree limb just outside of her bedroom. 

  ** _Would you rule by my side? So I could never be alone again, that is._**

The voice, so quiet and yet so unbridled with emotion, just as a brush of something licked at her skull. Jareth had looked inside of her mind, had watched the memory with her.

Her palms began to sweat as she clung to the wood of the dresser, leaning against it for support, but she needed to find him. He was not here within the room, and she needed to find him.

Sink her nails into the soft groves of his neck, spit in his face, and _make_ him give her answers.

Why now? Why had she forgotten? The little Sarah within her memory had not feared the little boy on the branch, no she _knew_ him. Was _fond_ of him.

It was all there underneath the surface, wished away to rot within her brain, when all she wanted was to uncover them and remember.  But did she really want to remember?

Was there a reason why she had seemingly forgotten the boy of dusk?

Did something happen? 

A soft pinch on her wrist broke her from her trance, and she jerked her hand away quickly.

_Oh, you._

She had looked up into the abyss of the raven's eyes. She was so painstakingly close to the cage, and her face- her face was inches away from his.

"I'm okay." The words pulled form her lips, and she wondered why she needed to reassure a bird of why she was leaning against the dresser like her life depended on it. 

The raven opened it's beak as if it were panting, and then fluffed it's wings as if to say  _Sure, uh huh._

She felt a smile pull at the corner's of her lips, but it faltered when a wave of pain washed through her brain. A muffled cry gritted her teeth as she braced against the dresser.

Her sickness, she hadn't had her medicine in god knows how long, it was sinking in gradually and knowingly. She could feel it, feel the way confusion fluttered across her brain like a dainty little butterfly.

Something stuck to her chest, and she looked down to see the blood on the night gown. No one had bothered changing her, it was that or the king liked the sight of his blood permanently ruining her gown.

A laugh barked from her as her sweaty palms snaked down the material of her night gown. She wanted to change but she felt as if she needed to lie down, she would begin the day again once she gained composure.

 Something caught her eye within the dim lighting of the room, something stark white against the wooden architecture of the wall. 

The door was open, giving way to a torch lit hallway, giving way to a little boy with white wispy hair and mismatched eyes. 

The solid thump within her chest miscalculated it's beat and stumbled. Her vision was doing her no good, she knew, with the world feeling as if it were tilting and arranging itself. She really had to go lie back down, regain herself, but the little boy.

He was young, too young to be alone within the castle, but he was the same boy from her memory. He was her boy of dusk and she was his prince, and she wanted to  _play._

His small head cocked to the side, and then he was skittering away, his foot fall echoing down the long hallway.

She couldn't lose him, not when he could tell her answers, not when she finally understood _why_.

She followed, her legs carrying her through the door and into the hallway, only to fall against the hard floor.

Anger flitted through her as she clawed her way back onto her feet, he was just down the hall, just out of reach.

"Wait." Her voice cracked, and he waited with complete ridged composure.

Yet he had not turned around, he was not looking at her but ahead, his hands dug into the dark fabric of his clothes. 

She was gaining ground before he was rushing forward, taunting her with brief over the shoulder glances.

She passed several creatures, which she assumed had been goblins, but didn't bother stopping not when she felt she was so close to something. 

She had followed him into a room, a room that had shut and swallowed her whole just as her foot reached the confounds. 

Her heart seized up within the darkness, her days and nights had become so mixed up that when she saw the open maw of a windowless hole overlooking all of the Labyrinth, she couldn't quite tell whether it was dusk or dawn.

What she could tell within her darkness though, was thousands of floating crystals, all in which faintly pulsed with various shades and colors. 

And _owls_. 

They were mere shadows, stretching and confounding to every shape imaginable, their eyes all glittered from the glow of the crystals that danced within the air. 

They were very old, from what she could tell within the darkness, and reeked of old dust and books and  _knowledge._

Or if knowledge had a smell, it would be it, but maybe it was just owl.

"The queen has come to the room of memories." A few voices whispered, brought in by the soft breeze of the outside.

"Would she choose a memory?"

"Should we let her?"

She had gone stiff, shivering as the wind caressed her sweaty body.

All was quiet and still as she waited, her legs wanting to give out from underneath her by the way her muscles seemed to flutter underneath her skin.

"A memory for a memory." A loud voice boomed, crackling the air, screeching with mighty lungs that made her flesh crawl.

"Okay. A memory for a memory." She agreed, feeling something shift within the room at her words.

"Give us a good memory, yes, yes, a good memory." A softer voice hissed, and she could feel the caress of feathers against her cheek before a heavy weight settled onto her right shoulder. 

Claws dug into the flesh and bone of her shoulder, and a weather cracked beak glistened within her peripherals. She wanted to look at it, but something within her mind told her not to.

These were not ordinary owls, they were guardians, they were the keepers of something very important.

"We have not been fed a memory in years." The olden voice crackled with fire, rumbling through her eardrums like thunder. "Give us your finest memory, and I shall give you an answer to a question you are seeking."

 _My finest memory?_ She mulled to herself, trying to conjure up a memory, and wondered whether or not she was to forget it as soon as she gave it up. 

It flashed behind her eyes, and it stuck her within the concave of her heart as she realized. The fondest memory she had was of her mother and father  _together._ It was the only memory she could remember of them.

Two young people in love, with sleepy eyes and dopey smiles over making pancakes, singing along to the radio only to go to battle with two spatulas; with the promise that whoever won would get the most chocolate chips. Sarah had not played that day, but only sat at the table watching with smeared chocolate fingers and lips. 

It was a good memory, and as soon as it surfaced she could feel it being sucked away.

"Thank you my queen." The owl's talons let up ever so slightly, and she could feel blood trickle down her shoulder. "Here is an answer to the question you seek."

A small palm sized crystal floated down towards her and nestled itself into her open palm. It was a maroon red, and glowed to a drum like beat of hummingbird wings, she could feel it within her palm. Alive.

She brought it close to her face to watch it thrive and hum within her hand.

"Bite it." Several voices beckoned, their tones deliciously devious.

She brought the crystal to her lips, and bit into it as one would bite into an apple.

The soft outer shell crunched loudly before liquid streamed from it's innards, coating her mouth and jaw in what looked to be blood.

Oh but the taste, so tart and bittersweet. It coated her tongue and throat in velvet texture with such vivacity it became numbing. 

 

  _ **"I cannot see you any more."**_

_The words ruptured through reality, taunting him, twisting his heart._

_He'd given up everything, he'd made the bargain, and this is what has to happen?_

_The gods must have been laughing at him._

**_" I am the only one that can see you, so how does that make you real?"_ **

_Another pang echoed within his chest, and his long fingers came to press to the scabbed wound there. His heart would not break now, it would not break. No, no, no._

_There was hope, he would give her time, he would give her time._

_Something within his mind growled low in warning, something evil, something like anger._

_He'd never thought he'd feel this much, but maybe that was the funny way that wishes worked; maybe that was his curse along with his gift._

_So let him feel too much._

_He sat peering within the long vertical mirror in the corner of his room, at his reflection, as he contemplated whether he should visit her._

_It had been a few years after all._

_And he was no longer a boy._

_But then again he had never truly been a boy, had he? Just a creature mimicking an age out of pure spite to satisfy the mind of another creature._

_He could be anything she wanted him to be, any age, any gender, any color- size or shape. He'd only assumed his natural state of being was enough for her._

_Ah, but he wanted to be like her. He wanted to see what she saw, and feel what she felt._

_So he was her little boy, up until she decided he wasn't...anymore._

_But he was to be a man now, wasn't he?_

_She was treading the age where she had begun to develop crushes, and it infuriated him because he couldn't be there._

_He could only watch from the glassy world of mirrors, and wish that he could just show up into her life. Be her prince charming. Be her king._

_He wondered whether or not she would still want to play prince, if she would still mock the way he'd eat the butterflies and save the moths._

**_I cant see you anymore._ **

_The play of wet tear stained fingertips dipping into the soft flesh of her mouth makes the boy tremble nervously. It makes him feel other things._

_It makes his skin become tight and alive, and it makes him want to taste her tears._

_He watches the film flick across his eyes before cocking his head to the side. His fingertips pressed into the sides of his cheeks, feeling teeth through the thin layer of skin and muscle._

_It's only been a few years, she couldn't have forgotten this quickly. He was too important to her, and she **promised**._

_His fingertips leave the hollows of his cheeks and comes to the reflection of the mirror which pulses like water at his touch. He is so powerful now, now that he's allowed the magic in, now that he's won the Labyrinth into crowning himself king._

_He'd won fair and square, he had to. What could she come home to if not to a kingdom?_

_"Take me to her, friend." His voice comes as a whisper, and the reflection of the mirror wobbles. "Take me to Sarah."_

_And with what he could see of his reflection, his body comes to life, his eyes shining a bright vivid yellow as he allows the portal to suck him in._

 

_He appears underneath her bed, strangely enough, encased within the darkness of her room._

_Everything has changed, he notices, as he takes in the posters and trinkets that she likes to horde. He takes in the details and commits it to memory, because he is sure he will have to use it in the ladder of time._

_The atmosphere had even changed, and it didn't feel like the room of a child any more, but of a woman._

_He feels himself close his eyes and reopen them before he is a crawling mess of long limbs. He crawls from underneath her bed, feeling the cold floor underneath him, and seeing within the darkness a bundle of blankets and long hair._

_She'd never kept long hair, not while he was within the picture, and he found his fingers itching to pull at the strands._

_He comes closer to her bed, making no noise, as he peers down at her sleeping form._

_Baby fat and flush lips. Her eyes roll within her sleep as if she were dreaming, and a noise escapes her lips._

_It is a noise that makes his hair stand and his insides ache._

_That is when he smells it, the change in her body, the sweet nectar of sweat and hormones. It seeps off of her in waves and it makes him nauseous._

_He stifles himself from making the first noise that wants to escape him, it is a noise of want, a noise of a creature that is caught in the confines of being human._

_"Jareth." Her voice rumbles, and it is not the voice of a child any more. Its soft and feather light and although she is still too young, she seems much older. But he is still young too, young enough._

_"Sarah?" His voice is soft, but it wakes her none the less._

_Her eyes zero in on his and widen with fear. She screams and it is earthshattering._

_And he feels shameful, although he doesn't know why. He feels regret for coming into her world, into the dark of her room._

_Her fear, he could taste on his tongue, and he does not like it. Not one bit._

_He tries to stop it by climbing into the tangle of limbs and sheets, of pressing his hand onto the soft flesh of her face, and capturing her body underneath him._

_He sits on top of her, his long legs on either side of her hips, his body contorted and bent close so he could whisper in her hair._

_"Shhhh its just me, its just me." He begs, feeling the tell tale signs of the pricking of eyes; of tears that threaten to cascade down his flesh._

_He hates crying, and he cries too much nowadays._

_He feels her body seize up underneath him, and the smell of fear dampens but only by so much._

_So he releases her face, and revels in the sight of bruised lips all puffy and pink. He is confused by these feelings, feelings of wanting to press his face close to hers, of wanting to disappear into her soft skin and never live a day without it._

_"You cannot be here, I told you I could never see you again." She begins to cry, confusing him further. Why isn't she happy to see him? Why isn't she smiling?_

_"But I had to see you again. I had to, you know I had to." His feelings rush out of his lips and he smiles because it helps stop the tears that are threatening to flow. "I cant go without my prince, I cant go without you."_

_"But you're nothing." She hisses, she is still afraid, and she is too human right now. "Youre nothing but my imagination, and I cant continue conjuring you up. People will think I'm crazy, they'll think there is something wrong with me."_

_But when did that ever matter? He thinks. His chest aching so badly that he presses his hands to it to stifle it. He cannot let it break, no no no._

_"I am real." He says instead, the anger is back and it is flickering in his mind and blocking his senses. She sees this and she tries to escape from underneath him. She doesn't._

_He pulls her hands from her and pins them on either side of her face. They are not children any more and he is much bigger, much stronger._

_"Why cant you see that I am real?" He hisses, his voice dropping an octave._

_"Even if that is true." Her voice cracks, it haunts his ears, "Then I wish to forget you, I wish to be normal. I wish for everything to be normal. I'm so tired of not being normal."_

_"But your promises." He cries now too. He smiles but it does not contain his sadness. Something happens inside of him, something breaks but it is not his heart. He becomes scared._

_"What are you doing to me?" He whispers, and he feels his body burn. A fire under his skin. It is not the good fire, it is blood, and it runs thin rivulets from his eyes. Small droplets of blood fall onto her blanket, and he feels bad for it._

_If she doesn't want him any more, than she shouldn't be burdened with him bleeding on her sheets._

_He sees the recognition in her eyes, and he lets her go._

_"No, no, no." She whispers, frantic, her hands coming to his face and her hands are so cold against his burning skin. "No I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it."_

_Oh but she did, didn't she?_

_He tears into the white fabric of his shirt, and paws at the wound that itches there._

_"What are you doing **to me?"** His voice bellows, it is hollow, it is deep and it is fear. His heart has yet to break, but it treads the line. He cannot hear her words any more out of the fear that the half heart within his chest will shatter. He pushes away from her gentle touches._

_The wish is beginning to work on him, and it crackles in the air like gun powder._

_She is forgetting him, he realizes and he cries more blood._

_"I'm so sorry, Jareth. Know I didn't mean it." Her face is red and it etches into his very being as he pulls from the bed like a wounded animal. "I love you." She howls, trying to follow him as the darkness tugs him backwards. "I love you, and I wis-"_

_He hisses, cutting her off, knowing that what is done is done._

_The damage cut deep, but he would find other ways._

_"Goodbye, Sarah." He whispers, bones cracking underneath his skin. If he stays any longer he will disappear forever. He needed to leave, to be forgotten._

_The last thing he sees is her wild eyes dull with sleep._

_And he crawls into the frame of the mirror like the creature he is, and is spat out into the emptiness of his room._

_He lays there for a long time, regenerating, thinking and thinking. He thinks until he loses a shred of sanity._

_And it comes to him in words; it comes to him in a story._

_The Labyrinth. A king, a princess, a **child**. _

 

 

 She comes out of the memory screaming, her voice is raw, and her mind is burning.

She is thrashing blindly when she realizes two arms wrapped around her, encaging her so she would not hurt herself.

"You should have not come into this place." A hiss, a voice that tears at her heart. She does not understand some things that had happened, of the half heart, or the bargain.

But she knows enough.

"So its true." She moans, her voice scattering against the wall, the sadness within it makes the crystal's tremble within the air. "I wished you away. I'm the reason for, for-" She cannot finish it, because it will become too real.

He only holds her. 

She feels a deep gurgling feeling, a feeling that makes her want to take a bite out of every memory. Of reliving everything she had ever forgotten, because if she doesn't she will never know. 

Jareth seems to know this and tightens his arms around her, pinning her to the hard flesh of his body. 

"You would go mad." He growls, and its a threat. 

"I need to know." 

"No, you do not. It will only make reality worse." His voice carries, and the world shifts with a pop and ringing ears before she is being thrown onto the sheets of her bed. "How did you find that room?" He snaps, he does not come near her as she lies on the bed.

The bird from the corner of the room begins to flutter it's wings.

She looks at him then, thinking back to the moments of seeing him within the memory. He had always looked this way, he had never once looked human, save for the one time- the only time- she could remember him. He had done it all to appear _normal_ to her, so she would not fear him as she did that night.

"You showed me." She says, watching as his nostrils flare and his jaw clenches.

"No I did not."

"You were a little boy, you were playing with me." Her eyes closed, and she could see him there. The little boy of dusk. "and you led me to the room of memories."

She finds her strength and her bravery and pulls herself from the bed. He steps back.

"You are hallucinating." He quips. His fists clench and unclench, but the anger does not fail to radiate from him as he stands there within the darkness.

She realizes that it was becoming night after all.

"I've known you all of my life." Her heart cannot contain the emotion that spills through her. "You've kept that from me, this entire time." She goes to him, she wants to hurt him now, but not as much as she wants to hurt herself.

How could she forget, how could she wish him away?

"You wanted it that way." His teeth glisten as he bares them, and he is a monster again. He is not the little boy of the dusk, and he is not the young man in the mirror.

"No, I only thought I did. But I was stupid." She spits the words out, and her hands meet the bones of his chest with a loud thud. "Why didn't you just TELL ME!?" Another smack. "You could have saved yourself from...from whatever deal you struck." Smack. "If you'd just TOLD ME when you took away my BROTHER!" She is screaming, he is baring his teeth, but he does not stop her as she hits him.

"You would not have listened to me." He hisses, finally taking her hands from him as he grabs her by her arms and spins her around. She is trapped with her back against his chest, and she feels like she could tear him apart.

"But why did you make it so hard? Why is it that you changed your appearance, why is it that you were so mean?" She cannot scream anymore now, not with how her voice breaks.

"Because why would I have wanted it that easily? Why would I have pondered to your weak girlish mind with imagery? Why would I have been nice?" His lips are close to her ear as he speaks. "If I were to have you, I had to know you'd want me as I am. The creature, the monster. The boy who wished he was human." 

 And she is still confused. She hates her confusion, she is blinded by it. Why would he appear older? Why would he not look as he always did? Why would he have stolen from her, and threatened her brother's life?

_The story. He thought she wanted a story, an adventure._

"Its not too late." She says, but she knows his answer before he says it.

"Yes, it is." He releases her, and he disappears just as he did within memory.

He disappears and leaves her to be so painfully awake.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> " Disarm you with a smile  
> And Cut you like you want me to  
> Cut that little child  
> Inside of me and such a part of you  
> oooh, the years burn  
> oooh, the years burn."
> 
> -"Disarm" by Smashing Pumpkins (Acoustic)

 

_**But what no one knew, is that the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with the girl...** _

 

She cannot tell direction, but knows that it doesn't matter.

Mortis, Queen of the Damned, sits upon a chair in shattered pieces. She is not healing as she is suppose to, and she knows the pain is the worst pain she has ever experienced. More gruesome than finding out the death of her lover and child, and more traumatizing than being born.

Her eyes do not work as she tries to focus in on her surroundings, and the only thing she can possibly remember seeing is the wicked eyes of the king himself. 

She had not told the truth, as much as not telling the truth that a fae could possibly do, for the faery folk cannot lie. No, what she had done was treason, and she knows the hell she endures is one of perfect compatibility.

 _"You told me that you did not know of her whereabouts."_ His voice echoes within her skull, sending tiny electrical impulses through her nerves like livewire. He is her death, and she knows that now.

 _"I did not know of her whereabouts, Jareth."_ She had hoped his name would pull something to the surface, anything other than the monster who posed above her. She is telling the truth, she had insisted Rolan to keep the knowledge of the next hiding place a secret from even her. " _He took her, that is all I know."_

_"Who took her?"_

_"I..."_ She had hesitated, because the man she had seen- the reaper- was not the man she had once knew. "  _he had gone by the name of The Raven."_

 _"Oh, you do know him Mortis. The rumors, the decades, and yet you tell me the man is but a stranger._ _"_

_"I only know of him as The Raven..."_

_"You liar. You and I both know this, and yet you continue..."_ He had seethed, and then there had been a noise. The most silent of inhales.

And then she was left to the silence, to the pain.

It had all happened quick, for the king did not like to waste time, although he had more than enough time on his hands. 

But the pain, the pain was slow, and it was spine breaking. She had not expected that amount of power to surface, and surely did not realize he had become strong enough to stop her magic. To uphold her healing capabilities to the point that she only healed enough to stay alive.

The steady drip of blood against the flooring echoed, and with each second she sat there, the more and more she began to come to the realization that he was to have what he wanted.

Something shuffled into the room, and her spine popped against the back of the chair.

"Is she safe?" Her voice crackles in the back of her throat, and she shifts ever so slightly- trying to move as little as possible without agitating the embedded horns. 

"Yes, as safe as she can be with her condition." His voice echos back to her, giving her some direction. 

"That is all that matters."

There was a soft noise, something clearing in the back of his throat. Her eye sight began to fizz back into view, bringing in wriggling wavelength enough to make her inhale painfully. He had healed her, but only by a little, so she could look in in the eye as he pressed his fingertips underneath her jaw.

His eyes met hers.

"You know how to save her." He speaks, and he knows that she knows he is reading into her mind. She has given up in trying to hide the information because she is too greedy to die.

"Yes." Her breathing rattles from deep in her chest, as she attempts to inhale in short wicked bursts to keep the ivory of the horn from wedging itself deeper into her flesh and bone. 

"But you do not know where it is, this cauldron?" He hums, nails digging into the flesh of her under jaw. "And you do not know what it will do to her. If it will heal her or cease her existence all together."

 He knows the answers, and yet he bothers to speak them out loud. 

"You cannot make her love you, Jareth." The words bubbled up from within, a sort of bravery within the pain. She expected him to lash out, to give her any sign as to being hurt by her words. Instead, his eyes only glisten in the lowlights of the room. 

"I know." His voice barely above a whisper does nothing to the piercing of her ears, piercing the demon within her. She had always wished to read him, to look inside the vast expanse of his existence and read him like a book. Oh, how she wanted to know the secrets that glistened behind his eyes.

"Then why do-" A bloody cough, throat burning. "Why do you care? She was too young to realize your intentions, shes...too innocent."

"This is why you keep to your hell, and you leave me to keep to my own." Nails grazing the underside of her jaw as he pulls away from her with such boredom that it makes her eye twitch nervously. 

 

* * *

 

 

**_Sarah_ **

 

 _"I wish to forget you, I wish to be normal."_ Her throat burned as she remembered; her arms wrapped around her torso to keep her held together as she sat on the floor against the foot of the bed.

It was still night time, but it had been hours since he was standing before her.

Lying to her. Making her feel things that she didn't understand. 

How could she have forgotten him? Was it really because of some fevered wish spilled out of fear?  Either way it  _wasn't fair._ He kept it from her, he kept so many memories that she couldn't get back, and had not even _bothered_ enlightening her with the fact that he had always been there.

And now nothing made sense. Nothing.

How was he a child when she was a child? When he was certainly a great few years older than she was. How was it that she forgot  _everything about him?_

Her fingers twitched and somehow end up in her hair. The feelings deep within her bubble. Why did he have to be so very mean, when they could have started over, could have created a good friendship?

A soft chortle from across the room broke her train of thought and she looks up to find the curious gaze of the raven within it's cage.

She had not bothered changing yet, and realized as she sat with her knees to her chest, that she needed a bath. 

"If I were to have you, I'd have to know you'd want me as I am." She growls, lowering her voice in mockery, her voice cracking with emotion. The raven continues to watch, black eyes glistening like wet coal. 

"I-" A whine breaks from her lips, and she quickly pulls herself together, wrapping her arms around her legs. Her chin resting against her knees. "I wonder what Rolan would say."

The bird merely blinked, it's feathers fluffing out.

"See I told you not to leave me, look what you've gotten yourself into." She mocks again, voice deepening so low that it cracks her voice. She tries so hard to just ignore the tears burning at the back of her eyes. "dumbass."

The bird chitters loudly for a second, and it sounds like laughter.

"What have I gotten myself into?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 "Here drink it up." Viola says as the day breaks through the window and floods the room. Its early morning, and Sarah has yet to go to bed. Her mind is on replay, and all she had brought herself to do was bathe. 

She had quickly put on a sleeping gown and curled up underneath the covers to the expansive bed just minutes before the woman had walked through the doors. 

"What is it?" Sarah questioned, eyeing the cup as if it held the world's deadliest poison.

"Your medicine, king's orders." Viola, still made up as the young red head, only eyes her curiously before adding "plus it'll help you sleep for a few days. Get you back on track."

”For a few days?” She quips back, but her entire body sings at the thought of getting some rest. She’s been asleep for too long though. Constantly sleeping, constantly being weak while the world around her is crumbling in.

Viola watches, green eyes a little too bright and catlike. “It wont seem long at all, but it will revive you enough for the following week. Visitors are coming, and preparations are being made for the wedding.”

 She bites her lip and watches the cup some more before taking it into her hands. It’s a deep silver color, the liquid, and it nestles within an onyx cup.

Sleep could be good, couldn’t it? Wouldn’t it?

The cup edges to her lips, and the taste is so sweet that it burns bitter against her tongue.  _Peaches._

The medicine begins to work almost instantly, it would frighten her if it werent for the soft buzz in the back of her skull.

 So she nestles into the blankets, watching as Viola leaves the room quickly. When a thought sparks like a flame in the back of her skull.

_You remembered. You remembered a memory, although you wished them away. Which means. Which means-_

 

 

_“Sarah.”There is a voice, as rough as stone and granite, and it washes over her. “Sarah, follow my voice. Come to me.”_

_The world is black, and hollow. But she does as she is told, and walks forward._

_Things begin to slither into view, little snippets of light flickering, and she follows them like little white rabbits through the darkness._

_She is tired of darkness, of the sickness, and constant worry._

_”Sarah. This is the only way I can reach you right now. So please listen to me.” There is the voice again, further up ahead, and she walks from the darkness and into the startling grey. It is an emptiness, and she feels as if she has been here before._

_She walks further, feeling the fog caress her legs through the white nightgown. Was she awake? No, she had to be dreaming._

_”Sarah.” He calls, voice breaking, and she sees him at last. Rolan._

_He stands, bloody, and the closer she gets the more she sees tiny little ripples against his skin. Small ripples of black against tan. Feathers._

_She stops, standing only a few feet away, and she notices he is trembling. His face slack with an emotion that she thought she’d never see. It’s something that is vague, but it looks like heart break._

_”Rolan.” Her voice cracks, and she feels the tears. “How- where are you? What happened to you?” She takes a cautious step, and it makes the muscles in his arms flinch._

_”Dreamscape, we are in dreamscape. Something that I should have taught you, but I suppose this can be your first lesson.” He stills, his eyes dilated to the point that they were as dark as the night. Something was very wrong with him, and it made her take another step. “I created the tether with what little controlled magic I have left. I-I had to be selfish. Had to see you.” He looked wild, hair torn free of the braids, skin shimmering with perspiration. His jaw rolling in thought._

_“Rolan, what is happening?”_

_There is a whine from the back of his throat as he shuts his eyes. A hand comes and paws at his chest in a familiar way that she’s seen Jareth do. She stops walking forward as an unsettled feeling threads through her._

_“I know how to, to fix you. I think Moor had it all wrong Sarah, I don’t think it’s a cauldron that can save you. But I cannot guarantee your safety, and I cannot guarantee that you will find her. Not if he wont let you go...” He opens his eyes and swallows up the space between them in two strides. His hands burning into her arms, burning them with a heat she was not expecting._

_”How, how?” her voice breaks, her hands coming to rest on either side of his face. It feels like its been so long, but it hasn’t been long at all since she has seen him. Sticky blood coats her palms, and pieces of his flesh peel off to reveal more feathers._

_“Her name is forgotten, but she is found within the oldest tree within the oldest forest. I use to know the way to her, she- she raised me, tell her I sent you. Tell her, just tell her to help you-“_

_”You use to know?”_

_”Yes, I...I forgot the moment I left the woods, the moment I rebelled against her wishes to join the society. A society that never wanted me to begin with.” He shutters, pressing his forehead against hers as he bends down. His breath reeks of blood and it wafts into her face. “She will know where the cauldron is, if you need a cauldron. But you need to leave the castle and go immediately. Jareth, he is being foolish, he is broken Sarah.”_

_She flinches from his grasp and drops her hands, her chest burning. “He is different, but-“_

_”Sarah I know, I know because I have seen him near you. He is just playing with you, using you.”_

_”You don’t know-“_

_Fingertips cut into the flesh of her cheeks as he leans close, he isn’t hurting her, but she doesnt like the way his hand grabs her jaw. “The raven, Sarah.” His eyes are leeched from any color, but its enough for everything to piece itself together._

_"You're...the present." Her voice breaks, and suddenly his proximity is too much. She pushes away, stumbling a little, and tries to ignore the way Rolan clutches at the air after her._

_"Yes, yes I'm the fucking raven okay? I felt...I felt you die. I-" His voice, bubbling and too emotional, burns. "I, came to save you- but. He doesn't know Sarah. He doesn't know, and the longer I stay stuck in this form the longer I lose myself. But don't try and get me out, don't worry about me. Okay? You need to save yourself. You need to-"_

_"Shut up." She feels so broken, everything is so tattered and confusing and just so draining. "Just shut up."_

_She turns away from him, because this is just a dream. Shes just back home in her father's study, dreaming. This entire situation, the new Jareth, Rolan. Everything is just a dream her brain conjured up in a way of dissociating. She is sick and she just needs to take her medicine._

_"Sarah, I need you to go and find the Nymph of the Woods. I need you to go and save yourself, and get out of here. Get as far away from all of this as you can, before it gets worse. I need you to do that." He is so close that she can feel the warmth bubbling from him, and something about it just makes her angry._

_"And leave you to forget yourself? In a cage constructed by my soon-to-be-husband who just wants to eat me? You really think me to be that selfish?" She whirls on him, suddenly wanting to hit him, when his hand captures her and he pulls her into a rib crushing embrace._

_"Please be selfish, for me. Don't try and save us, don't try and be stupid. Whatever he is feeding you, whatever happens, just know it is lies." His lips are soft against the shell of her ear, and she shivers angrily within his arms. The hands against his chest push ever so slightly. Now that she looks at him, she notices more feathers and blood trickling through the disguise of his flesh. Then something occurs to her, something wild._

_"Okay." Her voice is soft, but her heart is thrumming in her chest. "You really think he is lying? He's showed me memories Rolan." She leans back to see his face, which has pulled away from hers only by a little. His eyes are so dark that she cannot tell where he is looking, but she feels her spine prickle._

 " _Lies. A monster like that cannot tell truth, fae or not." His jaw clenches, and his nostrils flare but they hold one another's gaze. And for the first time she realizes what he wants, it's in the way his hands grip at her, the way his body curves towards hers._

_Maybe not. But if so..._

_Her left hand trails from his chest, nimbly tracing a path against the dirty canvas shirt that she's just now realizing. It isn't something she's seen before, but it looks like its more of an undershirt than anything. Something that's been conjured for the dreamscape. Its soft against the tips of her fingers that now begin to dip over collarbone, and glide up the thick expanse of his neck. She feels him gulp, and when she cups his jaw there is a sudden shutter. A sharp inhale._

_Heat rises to her cheeks, and she doesn't know how she feels about any of this. But she keeps her head leveled, because there is something she has to do, has to know. Its a pit of curiosity that singes in the back of her memory, or maybe it was the memory of Jareth's._

_Its non understandable, but it sparks something in her._

_"What will you do?" Her voice comes as a whisper, and she allows herself to melt into his arms ever-so-slightly. "What if I fail? What if he wins, with his lies and torment?"_

_"Then I'll find a way." The darkness within his eyes fade just a little, making him a little more of himself than seconds before. It goes straight to her heart, and she sucks in a breath to keep from crying._

_"You'll lose yourself." Her fingers brush his jaw, and he leans against her palm. It's so small compared to his face, that she watches it curiously before her other hand twitches over his heart._

_His heart beats underneath the fabric of the shirt, it's wild and frantic. Faster than any heart she's ever felt._

_"I'll always find my way to you, always Sarah." And suddenly, as if a elastic band has snapped, his lips are against hers. She cannot breathe as his body engulfs hers. A soft whine of surprise flushes through her and burns it's way against her cheeks and ears._

_This is the only way, she reminds herself and she feels herself kiss back. Rolan moans, its loud and it rings in her ears, his hands have come to rest on either side of her face as he bends down. Coaxing soft fever gasps from her lips, while at the same time swallowing them up. He holds her like she is the most fragile thing, but it has an edge. Its so very much like him, that tears trickle down the sides of her face._

_His hands slide from her face, one laces itself into her hair while the other one glides down her jaw and to her breast. She moans from the warmth of his hand through the thin veil of fabric, and he swallows it up by removing his hand from her hair to pull her closer. Its nothing like the boy back at the apartment, and it's definitely nothing that she's ever experienced before. It melts her, it makes her brain foggy, and she almost forgets._

_Almost._

_His tongue licks the seams of her lips and pushes in like a starving man, and she accommodates him. Trying to focus on the hand over his heart that slides underneath the material and presses into the burning flesh there. Its a mistake, or a blessing, either she cannot really contemplate as her fingertips trace the scar tissue._

_It's the same as Jareths. It's got to be._

_His mouth leaves hers and begins to trail sloppy kisses along her face and to her neck._

_"I shouldn't have ever left you," He murmurs, sucking against her skin. His breath comes ragged, and he grabs her like he's never going to get to do this again. Feel this again._

_And maybe he wont, either way, she moans. She knows she shouldn't be doing this, but something clicks at the back of her mind._

_It's been so long since she's done anything for herself, since anyone has wanted to be in her company without wanting to eat her or kill her. And the way his massive hand kneads her breast, and the way that his teeth clip at the skin of her neck, makes her feel like this is the only way she'll find love._

_"I should have just taken us somewhere, gone into hiding. It was a mistake to ever take you." He mumbles against her, and it rubs her wrong. Take? Take..._

_She goes to pull back, her fingers digging into the scar tissue of his chest, when his hands begin to rip against the night gown. The air around them, having become colder, nips at her exposed flesh. Pebbling her nipples, making her stomach clench with a need so strong._

_But then there is laughing, a loud cut throat sound that ripples through the air, and it burrows into her in a way that it shouldn't._

_Rolan is there, and then he isn't. Just like that. A sharp click._

 

"Shhhh shh, little pet." A cold hand cusps her flushed jaw as she jerks awake. Her body is flushed, she is sweating, and there is a stickiness of need that burns between her thighs. "Dreaming of our lover boy, aren't we? I saw a glimpse."

Jareth's voice rocks into her, and she jerks up into a sitting position before being pushed back down onto her back with a soft gentleness. He is lying in bed with her, chest bare and pale, rippled with toned muscle. Nothing like Rolan who is a massive, and ripped like some line backer. No, as Jareth lies beside her, he looks more like a panther lounging.

Her throat tightens up, and tears begin to burn at her eyes. He's seen, and everything that she's been trying up to this point has been tossed down the drain. 

"Is that what you want?" His eyes, bright and wide with curiosity, blink slowly. Watching her as if she were to disappear. It makes her swallow back the oncoming emotion of everything building up and pushing against her. 

"What?" Her voice cracks, and she probably looks too pitiful to look at.

But as she watches him, she doesn't see any trace of anger, no sympathy.

"To feel less alone? Loved?" His eyes blink in the way that reminds her of the time they were children, and his face is too open that it scares her even more than it ever has. 

"I just want..." And the dam bursts, because now she is crying and there isn't enough air in the room. There has never been enough air, ever. 

A chortle from the cage across the room makes her all but sob louder, damn him. Why did everything have to go and get twisted around? Up was down, down was up, sideways was right side...and she was sick of it all. 

"You do not know what you want, do you?" Jareth's voice is so calm, so collected, and she feels the bed move slightly as he inches nearer and pulls the blanket of pelts up around their bodies. "I know one thing, it seems that I cannot even leave you to heal and dream, without having things get a little bent out of shape." His cold fingers thread against her cheeks, wiping at the tears, pulling the strands of hair away. 

"I did it on accident earlier," He continues, listening to her hiccupping as she tries to calm herself down. "but I gave you a mere glimpse of your memories. Of the ones you wished away. I...saved some of them, it was wrong of me to, but it was the only way to keep them." He pauses, and it feels so odd for him to be so close to her in bed, with him being so calm and collected. He is still the stranger, but its less revolting now than it had been. His fingers threading through her hair lulls her deeper into a drowsiness, so she turns to face him on her side. "I took them while you were asleep when we were young, because apart of me knew you would wish me away. All good things come to an end, yes?"

He watches her, and its suddenly much harder for her to keep her eyes open. The taste of peaches on the back of her tongue numbs her once again.

His fingers stop, and he sighs as he relaxes into the pillow next to hers. His fluffy blonde hair sticks out wildly, and his long ears twitch slightly. He's so close that his mismatched eyes are full of depth, and are less hollow than yesterday. "Would you like to share a memory with me? You must sleep, but I will be here to keep the demons at bay. If you so wish- that is?"

Is this real? Apart of her thinks it is, knows that it is, but also feels like a dream.

He must see it in her eyes because the softest smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. "I'll take that as a yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been SOOOO long, but I managed to push this chapter out.
> 
> I hope you guys like it, and I have a proposition. If you guys would like to (if you even like reading the memories) you are free to comment what memory you would like to see through little Sarah's POV. If there is anything in particular you would like to witness, before this story takes off into the craziness of everything piecing together and making sense. It can be of anything, her throwing a birthday party for him, Him finding out she has a crush from a boy from school. Just let me know, because I'm curious!! :)
> 
> I do apologize it has taken me so long to get anything out there, college has started back up, and I've been dealing with some mental issues BUT the next chapter should come soon. Very soon.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You touched my skin so warm and time is cold and trust me I would know  
> in my heart I'm the half of a whole and it's making me feel so alone  
> Waking up thinking of what it is  
> To be loved (to be loved, to be loved)."
> 
> "To Be Loved" by Askjell ft. AURORA.  
> https://youtu.be/h2bjTFdezG8
> 
> Another song: My Thieving Heart by Sivert Hoyem, Marie Munroe

 

  _Something stirs within the quiet darkness of her room, peeling the sleeping girl from the deepest of dreams. Dreams of a journey; of a short man, a fox for a guard, and a massive beast._

_She mourns waking up, and shivers at the sudden chill blanketing the room. Its much darker than it should be as she pulls herself into a sitting position, and wraps the blankets up underneath her chin in the process._

_Shes too old to believe in monsters underneath the bed, but shes still young enough to doubt these assumptions._

_Something far off within the house shifts, sounding too much like footsteps against creaky floorboards. It makes her small heart pitter patter within her chest as she watches the door._

_A night light nearby flutters out; dying with a sharp buzz of electricity popping, and leaves the entire room in complete darkness._

_Her breathing races as she pushes herself  further up the bed, dragging the blankets over her head in a sure way to achieve total protection from the boogeyman._

_A rattling deep within the walls commences, and it sounds every bit like a house coming to life. And she knows from that moment she is going to be eaten by the monsters hiding within the shadows._

_So, little miss Sarah does the only thing she can think of. She calls on her own monster._

_"Jareth." A whimper escapes her lips as she trembles underneath the blankets. Her breath comes quick and uneven as the house begins to groan and creak louder._

_This is the end; he is going to be too late and she is going to be devoured. She knows it, she knows it through every single ounce and pore on her body as she trembles viciously. Tears prick her eyes as the bed begins to shake alongside her to the point that it rattles a very frightened scream from her lips._

_And just as the little girl is about to close her eyes and give up, a faint light flickers on and casts a faint glow through the bedsheets. The light wavers, almost like candle flame, but steadies itself just as the house shutters to a complete and rigid stop. There is silence, there is nothing but the little girl hiding underneath the covers, and the bright light._

_Somehow it both scares her and calms her at the same time._

_"Sarah?" It says softly, pulsating slowly. The voice, and the hypnotizing allure, burn her curiosity into action._

_Slowly the little girl pulls back the covers and peeks over the edge. A crystal orb defies all logic and sense as it flutters, quite alive (and seemingly insect like with its quiet chitters and clicks). The soft glow illuminates the bedroom like soft candlelight, and it drawls her into moving closer._

_She wants to reach out and touch it. Is it warm? Cold?_

_She's never seen a glowing crystal ball before, not with all of the times she has caught Jareth dangling them at the tips of his fingers. He's never allowed her to touch them, let alone get a good look, before he makes them disappear in mid air._

_But she doesn't see him anywhere, and her little heart patters faster._

_Fingertips stretch out, and the light grows increasingly brighter. It begins to hum, and the closer she gets; she notices the hair on her arms prickle._

_And just as the little girl goes to touch the glowing crystal orb, it disappears, leaving her grasping at cold thin air._

_Sarah topples over onto the floor in a heap of blanket and twisted limbs, yowling like a cat, before she pulls herself up and notices the bedroom window wide open._

_The orb hangs, glowing brighter than any moon she has ever seen, and beckons her to her feet. She must catch this orb, the little girl must finally witness the magic that Jareth experiences. She's more sure of this than of anything in her whole entire life. As far as little girls go._

_The linen curtains on either side of the window flap carelessly along with the wind, as she pushes past them and pushes the window further open. It's wide enough for a child to climb through, and it's enough for her to grab onto as she leans off of the ledge._

_Her small pink tongue pokes out as her tiny forehead  creases in concentration. She forgets the only thing that battles the outside cold,  is her frail socks and night gown, and hangs dangerously out the window to pluck the mysterious ball of light from the darkness._

_And it is dark. Unbelievably dark outside. So intensely void of anything, that even the tree seems hidden from her sight as she hones in on this mysterious visitor._

_Her fingers slip just as her hand comes close to grazing the floating contraption, and it blinks out as soon as she loses balance on the tiny window ledge._

_The little girl falls into the darkness, but so does the little boy._

 

 

_Falling has never felt so long, as she calls into the darkness of the night. Screaming, and grasping onto a figure that twists and warps against her body._

_There is a loud crack, and the wind is knocked from her chest as she blinks out the hazy tears in her eyes._

_She lies on top of the little boy, who is no longer the little boy, but a man._

_Where they were suppose to fall had been the place underneath her window, instead the world had shifted into something **more**._

_"This isnt apart of the memory," the girl states, breathless and heaving, as she glances around._

_They are within a meadow, surrounded by the tallest of trees, shrouded by moonlight and stars. It would be beautiful, if not for the blood trickling from her saviour._

_He had broken her fall after all._

_"Correct." His voice is soft, wheezing from his cracked lips. She watches, realizing she is more herself than the child of long ago. She is no longer the little girl from the memory. "I did not want you to bare witness to the rest of it."_

_She is confused, and goes to pull away when his arms wrap around her._

_"Then why would you choose this memory?" She watches the moonlight reflect off of his eyes, they appear so dark within the strange atmosphere of their dreamscape._

_"To prove to you, to show you, that of all of the times you saved me. I saved you." There is a whistle within his breath, the sound of splintered ribs and gasping lungs. It frightens her._

_"Wh-?"_

_"Sarah, I am not the kind of monster that you think that I am." His jaw clenches,  and she's  too close for comfort to get a good look at his face. All she can see are the eyes, the eyes that glisten maliciously._

_"What happened?" Her voice catches, and the account for the memory weighs down on her. "Was it you? The glowing ball?"_

_"No." They shift, he leans up with popping bones, and she tries to ignore the way his body molds against hers. He sits up, his arms pressing her close as she straddles him, and fixates on the way the nightgown (which had somehow grown along with her) rides up her thighs._

_"What was it?"_

_"A will-o-wisp." He states, hair matted and dark against his face. He never looks away from her as he watches with the same curiosity from earlier. Open. Childlike. "It tried to lead you to your death, steal you away from me. I only arrived just as you had fallen from your window." He swallows, throat bobbing._

_"I saved your fall, and I had quickly realized that magic doesnt work as well in a world that has no belief in it." He lets her go, allowing her to subconsciously slip away from him._

_Its strange, being so close; seeing and hearing of a past with a stranger._

_"Did you die?" He turns away then, giving her the ability to take in the fact that he is dressed in the same clothing as the memory's. Slacks,  a simple button up, and bare feet._

_It makes him look impossibly young, and it makes her feel old._

_The trees sway within the distance, and yet there is no wind. There is nothing but the both of them, hidden away in tall grass._

_"No, but you thought that I had."_

_"Why would you think this would be a good memory to bring up? I thought you wanted to understand-" Tears burn their way out, trailing hot and feverishly down her cheeks. He turns back to her, watching, and silent._

_"Because even though I have lost my mind," a fist comes to press against the area of his chest where the scar is hidden. "I would still do the same thing."_

_"NO!"  Her scream breaks the air and echoes across the clearing as she stands to her feet. How could he lie so easily? How could he go as far as to, as to say, he would save her when he had been her death many of times. "I cant believe you, I cant." Fury bubbles, but she doesn't move._

_She doesn't bother looking at him as her blurry eyes burn into the dirty socks upon her feet. "You've tried to kill me. You've forced me to accept your hand in marriage, you-"_

  
_"Sarah!" His voice growls, but he doesn't move from his spot upon the ground. Out of the corner of her eye something shifts, and when she looks up she sees the little boy of Dawn. He sits, sharp chin resting on boney knees that rest against his chest, and watches her with large owl like eyes that flicker like crystal within the moonlight. "You don't understand-" His voice becomes quiet and his head cocks to the side. It looks equally frightening coming from the child version of the monster._

  
_"I don't understand? Of course I don't understand!!! You've trapped me, you've hunted me, you've wrecked my entire life apart!" She falls to her knees, even when she wants to stomp away and scream at the world. "You have made me...You've made me..." She sputters, snot and tears running down her face that now rests against the grass and soil. Everything is heady with the smell of earth and dirt, and it should have comforted her, but all it did was make her think of him._

  
_"I have made you what?" The little boy snarls, face contorting nightmarishly just out of her vision. "I have given you everything. EVERYTHING!" He screams, voice breaking childishly and contorting into a deeper voice of a man. ._

_She doesn't fight when she feels herself being lifted up violently. Fingertips digging into the flesh of her arms. He doesn't hurt her, no, everything is meant to scare her. She can see that now._

  
_"Look at me." He snaps, long fingers curving along the bottom half of her jaw. "Look at me or I swear upon every god, upon the heavens and stars..."_

  
_"And you'll do what?" She snaps back, eyes shining as she finally looks at him through tangled hair. He looks over her, and the switching between states of being for him is starting to make her feel sick to her stomach._

  
_"Ill do many things." His voice levels, and becomes too calm. His fingertips lighten up to a gentle embrace, and before she knows it his forehead presses against hers. "Tell me Sarah. What is it that I have done to you?" His eyes close and she stares at the way his lashes rest against his cheeks._

_She doesnt know what to say. He knows this. He has to know._

_"Sarah, I loved you seconds after I saw you. You asked for adventure, I gave it. You wanted a king, I became it. You wanted space, I left you alone. You hated me, so I became what you needed to hate. I have saved you, carved out entire lifelines and destinies for you. I have created my entire world based around you. All for you." His words burn, and his breath filters across her cheeks in the scent of blood and honey._

_"You wanted a monster...and I know its not your fault." Jareth wavers, something within him crumbles. "I've become mad with sickness and torment, and I have done this all to myself. All along, I had thought humans were the naive creatures...When it is the humans that truly live."  Both hands come to cup both sides of her face, as his mismatched eyes flicker open._

_They dilate into darkness._

_"Sarah, why would you walk into my trap? Why do you torment me with your light- your presence?"_

_"I never asked for this..." She trembles, and the lie burns her tongue. She'd always wished for a way out. A dreamer born into a world void of adventure; a world where princesses and kings no longer existed._

_"And I never asked to be born." His throat rumbles, animal like. "I had fought so hard to be human, when it was never meant to be." His fingertips slip away as he backs away from her._

_She doesn't want him to leave, doesn't  want him to sink back into the creature she's all too familiar with._

_"Jareth," She tries to find her voice, and watches him flinch at the name. "Why did you force me into marriage? Why not just send me above ground, and forget me? I do not want you to suffer any more... I do not want the underground to suffer."_

_He turns away, back flexing underneath the canvas material of his shirt, and his head tips back. Immediately she realizes the blood and injuries had disappeared, revealing just a young man looking up at the moon._

_His hands twitch at his sides._

_"If I had not have threatened your life, you would not have wanted to marry me." He murmurs softly. Its more to himself than to her. "I have tried to forget you, I have taken great lengths to wipe you clean from this place." The woods, everything,  becomes so silent that the hairs prickle on her arms. "I know now that my soul, my entire being, will never know a life without you."_

_Her throat goes dry, her eyes burn once again._

_"I cannot let you leave, because you are tied to this place. You will die, and I do not want to waste another life trying to find you. When I can be selfish in this one. Besides, you have always wanted the big wedding, the fairytale king-"_

_"And how do I know you are not lying?"_

_"The fae do not lie." He turns ever so slightly to her, but continues to watch the sky._

_"You are not fae." How could he be? She had never met anyone else like him. Not even Rolan could hold a candle to the overall aura of the Goblin King._

_"Oh, Sarah." A smile etches itself upon his face as he finally glances over his shoulder at her. "I can show you if you'd like?"_

_"You never answered my question.." She snaps, her body is on fire with rage and fear, that it makes something churn within her belly._

_Shes confused, she must be._

_Jareth's nostrils flare, and the moonlight carves the look of mischief onto  his face. "And you, my dear, never answered mine."_

_"I'll never know...will I? It was always your plan.. to make me into a lovesick child who never questions anything. Who comes at every beck and call. You live to confuse me. To mutilate my feelings, and make me go mad like you." She bares her teeth, biting at the confusion, and realizes._

_Its perfectly clear._

_He must know because his stance changes into something more stiff._

_"I cannot live in the past any more. I will not allow you to take me, and make me yours. I am not going to just lie down and take it. I am not some little girl whose going to fall inlove with you-"_

_"Not without a fight." He finishes, the smile at the edges of his lips give her chills. "Tell me Sarah, would you like to play a game?"_

_Her voice catches within her throat. "You won't play fair."_

_His eyes sharpen as he mocks a hurt expression. "You haven't even heard the rules,  the tribulations, the **opportunity**."_

_"Out with it then." She stands tall, feeling every word from their entire conversation pierce her._

_"King and Prince." He begins, and she feels her heart drop. "You, Sarah Williams, will be garnished with the thickest armor, and the sharpest blade. Where as I, Jareth- The Goblin King, will wear the garb I am currently dressed in." He takes a step forwards and waves his hands in attempt to further his explanation._

_"Okay." She gulps._

_"You will be given three hours to hide, or fight depending on what you so choose, if you win you will lose all memory of everything. I will send you aboveground where you will live the most normal of lives."_

_"I will be free?" Her throat is dry, too dry. She feels..._

_"Yes. Free."_

_"But if I lose?" She can feel the rush of adrenaline start at the tips of her toes._

_"You will marry me, I will heal your sickness, and you will live beside me in the world of the Underground for the rest of your many lives." His voice does not waver as he stares through her. "You will have to marry a monster." He continues, eyes darkening, something within his demeanor changing right before her very eyes._

_"How will I know I have lost? You never-"_

_"A kiss."_

_"A kiss?" Her heart feels like it is going to beat out of her chest, she knows she doesnt have to even agree to the game. They can go on playing the confusing one they already have._

_But apart of her wants to beat him, again. Apart of her wants him to work for it. Work for her._

 

_"Okay, I will agree, but on one thing." Her voice sounds strange as it spills from her lips._

_"Anything." His eyes glint._

_"You cannot use magic."_

 

* * *

 

_He is going to let her win, and he knows it._

_He sees it in her eyes, the fire, the resentment._

_Jareth knows if she is made queen,  she would resent him until the end of time itself._

_He stands tall against the grass that whispers to him, and watches Sarah run across the clearing._

_Sterling silver flickers underneath moonlight as she makes her way across the field and towards the darkness of the trees. She is wearing light armor, with a sword strapped to her back for good measure._

_The trees sing from her presence, and hes much more happy that hes able to craft a more human dream space._

_She would never make it alive if she were truly lost within one of his forests. One of the Labyrinth's acres._

_Jareth, the King of Mischief, stands as still and cold as a statue before flickering his gaze up to the heavens._

_The moon is pregnant and full, and she is beautiful. He had half hoped, with selfishness, that Sarah would notice the beauty of this happening._

_She had asked so sweetly before, allowed his caress in the real time, it would only make sense that she would not listen to what he was trying to give._

_She had always been stubborn, and its better she realize his falsehood than to fall victim to it._

 

 

 

 

_The forest, although fabricated, is hungry._

_It reminds him that, no matter where she goes, she will never be safe from him._

_He breaks through the atmosphere of the trees, and offers a hand to caress the branch nearest to him. The tree whispers immediately, singing in chorus of where the champion is._

_Its not magic, he's not cheating. Not when it is he who had crafted this world they dwell in, not when she too can hear their whispers._

_She just would have to stay still long enough to listen, and she wouldn't._

* * *

_There is something wrong with the trees; it doesn't take her long to realize this as she runs forward. Trying desperately to ignore the fact that the armor is noisy, and the sword carries weight._

_Her heart hammers quickly, with excitement or fear, at this point she doesn't even know why anymore._

_She has to focus on the game, yes. Focus on hiding from the Goblin King for as long as she can until she has to draw her sword._

_Does she even know how to wield a sword? It seems like a foreign concept, though it wouldn't surprise her if he had taught her once- in another life time._

_She will use it, she can feel it by the way the air hums, that she will have to._

_'Kill him,' Her mind whirs as her breath comes short, and she stops to gather her wits. One arm rests against the rough bark of the tree, and she blinks absentmindedly within the darkness._

_"No, no." She mutters, trying to stifle her thoughts and push them into another direction._

_She has to win, **has** to._

_But what is she fighting for any more? Did she really want to leave a place that is beginning to feel more and more like home?_

 

* * *

 

  It is not the first time Esmeralda finds herself within one of the master's dreamscapes; nor will it be the last time. 

She is all but crafted from both reality and dream, so it makes it quite impossible to keep the curious bird to her perch. Not to mention the fact, that the castle drama has found its way to the top of her list, of what to do for the day.  

Esmeralda had never met the champion up until the point, no, she had to be born soon after the fall of the castle; of her king. It was quite frustrating for a bird, more frustrating to watch from afar.

Though as much as she did like to watch, she had to know of this girl, of the best interests of her Labyrinth. 

She perches above one of the old elms, and watches silently as the girl pauses her escape, to lean against the tree. Her breathing is loud and obnoxious, but Es feels bad for her.

Having dealt with the King for the past years, she knows that the girl is suffering the bouts of madness from the king. But, if the bird were to be completely honest, the girl is just as mad. Equally so. 

They were a match, a strange match, but a _match_. 

 

Time had crept on to the second hour, and the girl had slowly begun to move from her hiding. Time was ticking, slowly, but it was running out.

Esmeralda had grown tired of watching the anxiety of the girl, and swept from her perch to find her Jareth. She had kept a watchful eye on the two, and had even eavesdropped through the conversation to realize the King was not putting the effort in. 

He was going to let the brat win, and then he was going to mope around about it till the ends of time. 

Mope (mostly being the wrong word) was the only thing to cross the owl's mind, as she watched the man stroll carelessly through the open path cutting through the trees. He had his own way of loving. It may be brutal and unjust, it may be monstrous and vulgar, but even the owl knows that monsters long to be loved. 

And the love of an owl for her master isn't enough.

She flits down and lands on Jareth's shoulder; relishing on the way her talons dig through the material of his shirt and dig into his skin. He does not wince or flinch, and all but caresses her head with a soft chortle. 

"I wondered when you would come down." His voice purrs, but he is sad. She can feel it as it radiates through him.

She cocks her head and chatters back softly, spouting nothing but nonsense. Nonsense to him, maybe, but it is clear what she means. 

The ear closest to her twitches faintly, as his eyes scan the surrounding trees. 

"I am not to win this game." His voice is soft, sure. But she is here to be the demon on his shoulder. 

The wind ruffles her feathers as she chortles again, clicking her beak together roughly, before her master is set into a laughing frenzy. 

"You do not mean that. You mean to tell me you think she would be fit to be the queen? Oh Esmeralda, my favorite bird, you talk of madness."

But the glint in his eye glistens dangerously. He is thinking, and she sings to him. The olden song of the owl purrs from her throat, and floats around them amongst the trees. 

The deep bellowing of the owl, the song of the chosen one, had begun by the Master Time himself. The father of fathers, the man to twist fate and rescue the human infant from a king of hate and crime. Jareth knows it, his fingers twitch out of the corner of her eye, but he stills and allows her to finish. 

To finish on the sweet note of two souls split into two halves. A dyad. A rarity spoken from the man himself whom had looked into the child's eyes and felt a soul split in half. 

"It is only a tale, silly bird." His throat bobs, and she knows that she has taken root. Finally feeling relief in sharing the reoccurring thought that continues to pester her. 

"You, you have no proof of this. It is pure craziness brought up by too much free time." He continues, trying to bury the thought that has already taken root. "Besides, the only thing missing is the half of my heart. There lies the answer to your story."

The soul, the soul does not pertain to the body, she wants to say. She only fluffs her wings up. 

They begin to walk along the path, a soft gait, when there is a sharp cracking sound nearby. The snapping of twigs and leaves. She is close, so close. 

"She will resent me." He voices aloud, its low and husky as he stills himself once more. 

She flutters from his shoulder, dipping carelessly down towards the dirt in a rugged dance before pulling herself up in time to take flight to the trees. The girl is not meant to know of her presence, she would assume her master to cheat. Besides she is to watch it from afar. 

She alights on a branch, scuffing up bits of tree bark, just as the forest stills. 

 

Two stars collide, the girl crossing from the trees, unaware of the king until she meets his path and locks up like a deer in headlights. 

The sword sings as it drawls from it's shift. The two stand quietly, as still as statues as they stare at one another. 

The air intensifies. 

* * *

_How does something so bitter smell so sweet? He thinks, thoughts blaring before whiting out as she notices him._

_She locks up just as he knew she would._

_Her dark hair in tangles, tied up with leaves and twigs. Just as it should be._

_"Dont take another step." Her voice, so sultry, sings against his skin and burns like fire, and what he had thought to be as resentment entangles into much more._

_"Time is running out," His throat is dry, and for a moment he is lost. Why is there to be so much drama? So much hate? The madness spreads into an old feeling._

_"I am going to win Jareth." She spits, face puffy and red with emotion. She is not even holding the sword the right way._

_"Then come over here and strike me down. Show me, make me believe **it**." His body tenses, half of him wants- no- needs to feel the cut of the blade. Starling silver and blood. But it all winds down to one thing, to a realization. _

_Why cant they just let go? Why does there have to be a king, a girl? Why does there have to be so much pain?_

_Why cant he just let her go? Leave her be._

_She takes a step, and the hunger intensifies. It whites his brain like the memories that have burned for so long. The monster in him aches._

_"You monster, you think I am going to fall for your pitiful tricks." She growls, it's animalistic. She believes she has the upper hand because he does not have magic, and he wants to laugh. "You're such a **liar**."_

_"Pet, you call me a liar, when you should know that I do not lie."_

_"Why, because you're fae? Its bullshit."_

_"I could never lie to you Sarah, I have only ever loved you." It burns coming out, but he can see the way it affects her. It makes her seethe. She takes a step, knuckles whitening on the hilt of the sword._

_"No you havent. You havent. You filthy liar." She mutters, to herself. Her cheeks glisten, and he wants nothing more than to taste them. But time is ticking, and he can be awfully impatient._

_"Then come and cut me to the bone, pe **t."** The t clicks off of his teeth like a curse as he tastes his own anger. How could he have ever loved such a abrasive thing? This entire experience was to show her how much the human in him had loved her, how much the monster was trying to understand. _

_Foolish._

_She does not let him down though, as she begins to move. The armor sings loudly as she clears the space in between them, and swings the sword hard near his head._

 

* * *

_"Cant you **see**? No matter what you **do** , where you **go** , I could never let yo **u**_ **_go."_** _His voice growls, and it cuts through her anger within mere seconds. She had mistaken. She had fired out of emotion and not thought._

_She had not prepared for this hellish outcome._

_It was easy, fueled by the anger, when she was pulsing with the need to swipe his head clean from his shoulders. But she was a fool. A damned fool._

_The blade stops mere inches from his face, and as she stands demolished with surprise and fear; she eyes the blade that has worn a deep wound into the pale flesh of Jareth's left forearm. It's so deep shes sure it's wedged into the bone._

_He blocked it. He blocked it with his arm._

_She stares at the blade for a moment longer until she glances up to the glistening of eyes._

_Admiration, hunger. There is too much within the soft hues._

_For a moment she feels like she has lost, but then it clicks that she hasnt._

_He sees it, and with lightning speed yanks the sword from her grasp. His arm bleeds freely, but he treats it like a flesh wound as he catches her. He is not the man from earlier, but again the creature she has to bare witness to._

_The Goblin King._

_His hand grasps her throat as she fights to get as far away as she can. This lacks consent, but she did agree to it._

_It was a game of cat and mouse. The king and the knight in some warped up childish fantasy cooked up by a monster._

_His lips meet hers with brutal force, and a fire comes to life underneath her skin._

_He takes, he is not sweet like Rolan, as he pulls her so terribly close that she feels her bones pop. Teeth sink into her bottom lip, and she yelps. He swallows it all._

_The only thing she can think of is the fact he is not groping at her like some child. He keeps it strictly to their bargain, and its all she could have asked for._

_The feelings she feels begins to sway from anger into a burning need to understand._

_To find some peace within the chaos._

_"You are not inlove with him, are you?" He breaks the connection just as she realizes she had made the mistake of kissing back._

 

She feels like she is dying, in a way. Because he had promised her a source of relaxation. A sleep without a deep interconnection to the craziness of her life. She is wrong, as always. 

She could go away to the dreamscape with him. Only him. That's what it meant.

She had kissed him, and it was all over now. The abrupt final blow of a metaphorical knife through her heart. 

She awakes huffing at the air, her fingers kneading into the sheets like fine dough, her eyes wild and blurry. 

It doesnt take very long to realize he is not beside her, as he had been, nor does it surprise her that he isnt. 

"You're awake!" The cheery Viola calls through the open doorway, and hustles in at inhumane speed. "You've been napping for a good solid week, my dear, but now its time for you to get up." The young girl, who isnt a girl the more Sarah admits it to herself, stares at her with something short of fondness. Her maid outfit is crinkled, her red hair sticks out in a little downy hair halo around her head. 

"I was asleep for that long?" It didnt feel long enough, but she pulls herself up. 

"Aye, yes! it was enough time for the king to round up the guests, and get them ready for the banquet. The ball. The party." The girl bats her eyelashes and begins to work around the room, tidying up in a nervous fashion. "Its time for him to introduce the queen, is what this all means." She speaks to herself now, and Sarah feels her chest tighten.

"When is the wedding, Viola?" Her voice crumbles out in a whisper, she notices its around midday from the subtle warmth of the sunlight playing through the shadows, and even notices the lack of the ra-Rolan. She could lie to herself and say that its a relief, but the dread settling into her heart makes her think otherwise. 

"Ah, I'd say maybe five days? Thirteen? He hasnt said yet, dear, and knowing him- it'll be a very," The girl stops mid dusting and looks to her feet. "private."

Sarah's chest aches at the thought as fear trickles in. Its happening, the realization, the weird dream. The  _kiss._

"Private?"

"No guests, it'll be out of the blue. Just you and him. Hes not one to share nothin' so I wouldnt expect him to want to share you on the special day." Viola stops dusting and quickly scampers out into the hallway to reveal a deep emerald dress of velvet . "It's beautiful, im sure the- _guests_ \- will get a good surprise when they realize just who you are."

"He hasnt told them anything?" Sarah says, and it feels like time is ticking. Like every ounce of freedom she has, is dwindling down to nothing.

"Oh no, he tends to strive for the surprise factor. That or he doesnt care." With a shrug the girl walks over and pulls Sarah from her bed, and tuts. "Im actually quite surprised he invited anyone, so there is no telling where this thing is going to go."

She stands on her feet, and relishes in the lack of nausea as she allows the girl to reprimand her into the bathroom. "You need a good bath, get ya squeaky clean." The phooka states, chuckling, her fingers are just tight enough on Sarah's shoulders that it hurts. 

"Hopefully though-we dont get you too squeaky clean. With that clean untouched blood of yours, i'd say the monsters in that room will lose their mind." Viola laughs, closing the door behind them, and stares at Sarah long enough to realize the flush of her cheeks. 

"What?" 

"Oh you dont know sweetie?" The hyper fine line between normal and the bizarre begins to morph the face of the girl, revealing (like a true horror film) the monster underneath the skin. "Virgins never last long with the creatures of magic. The blood is too rare, too defined to go unnoticed, which is why I am so surprised it has lasted this long. With Jareth being the king and all."

Drool glistens at the lips of the creature in front of her, looking more like a goblin of sorts with a mockery of some human features than anything. She backs up, her heart beating quickly within her chest. 

Its pathetic to think that something like virginity could mean something in a world such as this, but the more and more Sarah thinks about it; the more the old folktales, and every dark twisted sacrifice known to mankind through history, plays through her head. 

"He has truly lost his head, if he expects that there will not be a fight tonight. But I am sure that is what he wants, a good king never backs down from a fight." The creature stands, head cocked, for a few minutes longer before turning to the door. "Now get a bath, I will await to assist you with your dress. My queen."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this story. You guys have no idea how much the feedback really helps.  
> This year has been a very hard year for me, mentally and physically, and it feels like it has been forever since I have been able to truly get back to this story. I truly apologize for how long it has taken for me to get back to you, and give you a piece of something that means a lot to me.  
> Hopefully things will begin to get better, and I will be able to get back to writing as much of this story as I possibly can for you.  
> You are lovely.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A New Character is born.
> 
> There is a lot going on, a lot of perspectives in this chapter, some action, some confrontation. Truths get revealed, and things take a different turn. This will be a wild ride of madness, of self growth, of faeries and lore.
> 
> Stay tuned.

 

_**"Abandon all hope, ye who enters here." - Canto III** _

 

  _Vermin. Such **vile**_ creatures, born from the dust and ash of their dreams. He watches them as he passes through the threshold, their masks shine in all of their nightmarish glory. 

 He could never say much, not when he is one of the creatures, a monster who hunts other monsters. But a monster no less. 

He is not welcome here, in this shallow pit forged and founded by some of the oldest of creatures, but his twin's invite was an urgent one. Spoken in tongues of a harking deed needing to be done. 

He searches for her now, swallowed by the massive crowds of every empire and trolley of the Underground, but it never takes him long. It never matters if it has been hundreds or thousands of years, he always finds her. She is unnoticeable underneath the knarled husk of a mask, but his fae senses scream otherwise. A twin shall always know of the whereabouts of another twin, they are tied by a strange thread of fate that could only be separated by death. 

"Azazel," She hums underneath her breath like a secret and it's in her tone that she had not truly expected him to show. How could he blame her, when he has never shown before? "You came, I am glad."

Lilith stands tall, as lean and wiry as the last time he had seen her. Just the same little girl from his childhood, the same twin that had taken the punishment just as he, so much so that it makes him almost feel sorry for her. Almost. 

She had never had to wear the scars, and she had never had to face the unbearable truth of being a half-born.

He looks at her now, and all he sees is the fae, the very creature that had eaten every last trace of humanity within the womb. She would have eaten him too if he would have allowed her.

She beams up at him, her dark brown eyes burn underneath the soft glow of the faery-light.

One look around and the king is nowhere to be found, not from what he can tell amongst the masses of masks and costumes. 

"Enjoy the party, and soon enough I will tell you what ails me so- brother." Her voice hums, and she leans towards him for a moment to brush the hood of his cloak off of his head. "At least you wore a mask, though I am sure everyone here knows of what you are..." She continues, and he doesn't know why she continues. Maybe it makes her feel better, or maybe she still likes to hear herself talk just as much as old time's sake. 

 

He only nods and steps away, he knows where to go and it is to the dark corners of the ballroom. The darkness, the recesses of the room, that is where he belongs until she comes to him. 

" _Bastard born."_ Someone hisses as he steps through the crowd, they do it underneath their breath, but it does not faze him. Not any more. He is the bastard born, a rare halfing of balance brought up and nursed to be something that they fear. 

And  _they do **fear.**_

Every last one hesitates as he glides through, always careful not to touch, always careful not to look up into the eyes. They know better. 

 

 

Azazel has never liked parties, in fact, he has never cared much for the groveling of superiority. Classes, royalty, none of it ever matters. At the end of the day, he is always the reaper, and there is never enough money or booze to persuade him otherwise. 

He stands stiffly at first, listening carefully to the heartbeats of the room, as everything begins to fade and intertwine with the eerie blanket of music. The orchestra floats atop of a balcony high above the courtroom, each one unmasked and clean cut. Perfectly crafted for the occasion. 

And what was the occasion anyways? Lilith had mentioned a wedding of sorts? The unbridling of the mystery queen-to-be. It doesn't interest him enough, not while he quietly watches every elf, goblin, and hierarchy nearest to him. They all eye him, he is their plague, their every nightmare wrapped up in black cloth and leather. A weapon wearing weapons ready for the next fight. 

Once upon a time, it would have bothered him; would have even sent him in a fit of rage. He was not an animal to gawk at, but let them gawk now. He wanted them to know what they had to behold.

"Witcher." A deep voice growls as a scarlet mask materializes to his right, it comes from a tiefling of sorts. Long extravagant horns boast out of the hallows of skull bone and weave their way to the ceiling. He eyes the man, quickly assessing the scrawny fellow with nothing more than a huff of his breath. He had not been called a witcher in many millennia, and he would not consider himself so if it were not for the training he had to overcome as a child. 

The name burns him either way, reminding him of his place, of his beautiful and tragic curse. 

"Why must you show yourself on such a beautiful night, friend?" The man flashes a pointed smile and lolls near on long legs swathed in deep crimson slacks. 

"I am no friend of yours," Azazel growls heavily, his voice rough and unused. It makes the man stop just a few feet away, his smile fading. 

"You do not belong here, nor are you welcome." He cracks back, voice slimy underneath the mask. " _Monster_." The man disappears back into his hiding amongst the people, and he slinks further back into the shadows.   
  


He needs to hide better, because the last thing he needs is for there to be a fight, and the king to take notice. An angry king is the last thing he wants on his list for the night. 

 

 

 

There is a slight change within the air to his right, amongst the darkness. Its enough to still him, enough to override him with a new sense of a foreign scent. 

A young girl, human by the way she smells, stands within the darkness- hiding. Though he knows it will not be for long, he cannot help himself with the curiosity of knowing there to be a human in a room full of...well, creatures. 

* * *

 

 One minute she is alone, and the next she is overcome with an overwhelming feeling of being watched.

 Yellow eyes glow within the darkness and burn her with a foreign dread. All Sarah can think about is what Viola had announced earlier, about there being monsters, about her blood being too valuable.

She had thought she could hide.  _Thought._

The man, or what she assumes to be a man by the mere size of it, begins to draw near before a bony hand grasps at her arm and pulls her out into the light of the party. She doesnt look away from the eyes, not until she hears the low hum of her maid.

"Do not go messin' with that fella, he's all bad news, and nothing you need to get tied into tonight." The redhead, who had decided to look more _ladylike,_ smiles with glistening canines and winks at a few passerby. 

"Who is that?" Sarah asks, her curiosity spiked from nerves, of the many stares she gets as she weaves alongside the Phooka. She is adjourned with her own mask, a simple harlequin mask of black and white that reminds her too much of The  _Fool_ from a deck of cards.

_"_ The mighty monster hunter, Azazel. Some call him a witcher, most call him bastard born." Viola's voice sings in tune to the sway of the music that is in a chipper mood than Sarah's last experience. There are more stares, and now a deep hum of excitement coming from the crowd around them, that makes the girl inch closer to the phooka. 

"Bastard born?" Sarah's voice huffs underneath her breath, and she feels a slow panic attack coming on. Its too much, the masks begin to sink into her skin and remind her of the many nightmares shes had since Jareth has dropped her into the void. She asks questions at this point to try to calm the storm within herself. 

Viola's nostrils flare, and her eyes dart to the girl's face in a way that allows her to see them dilate. The phooka can smell her fear, just as she expects the rest of the party.

The room tilts like a ship at sea for a moment as many strangers melt and bend towards her. Shy enough to stay a few feet away, but curious enough to sink their attention into her. 

"Half borns are rare, a child birthed from the interspecies of human and fae can create complications." Viola's long fingers interweave into Sarah's, as the girl brings her into a slow dance. "usually they die, if they are not balanced. But if they're balanced." The phooka's mouth stretches into an inhuman smile, and Sarah tries to glance away in time to not show the discomfort of existing within the moment. She hones in on the simple brown evening gown, and thinks about the oddity of the servant not wearing a mask; when it occurs to her that in a way she is. 

"The half borns are known to be some of the strongest beings within the Underground. Strong enough to take on the king, even." Viola's voice chirps, and she giggles gleefully before her hands tighten against Sarah's. "But that is not why he is unweclome. That we shall not speak of, for we do not want to upset the order of things more than it is already."

She wants to say something, anything, before she is simply waltzed from the only person she really knows, and into the hands of a complete stranger. 

A long bony arm outstretches to her before drawling her close enough that she can smell the deep woody fixture of fire and decaying leaves. The mask of wood penetrates her mind as she watches in a disembodied way as her body is directed deeper into the crowd.

"What a lovely creature." The stranger implies. 

"Yes, indeed she is." Another hums nearby.

It all feels like deja vu, and it makes her stomach sway ever so slightly. 

The music chirps and whistles through flute tone, and other whimsical instruments. It makes her feel light and feathery until she is pulled from one's arms and into another.

"Drink this." The voice, the oh so familiar voice of rough leather, whispers demandingly. A small glass of deep blue liquid sparkles within the wide grasp. She looks up into a mask of black feathers, and instantly feels her stomach drop further. 

"Rolan?" Her voice breaks, and it is so quiet that it almost feels like she had not said it in the first place.

"Drink this, now. The more your fear spikes, the more your pheromones fluctuate. This will help you calm down and level out. Keep you from being eaten by the sharks."

He holds her with a gentle embrace as they twirl amongst the chaos. Black accompanies every preface of his form, in dark leather and small trim of fine feathers. He is free, but from the way his eyes burn through the holes of the mask, it makes her think that he really isn't. 

She takes the liquid, quickly, trying not to think about the absence of the bird earlier that evening. Or how he could have been set free. The liquid is pure alcohol of some sort, and it levels her out in a way that burns through her body and makes her head blank out. She sputters and drops the glass accidentally.

"I cannot stay near you, I am being hunted...watched," Rolan says through the stiff waltz and goes to lean closer before he simply vanishes. Gone. She tries to find him in the crowd but fails miserably. 

The confusion settles, but Viola's words ring within her ears. 

There will be a fight, a blood bath, her mind screams. She wills herself to stand for a moment and allows herself to try to float alongside the effects of the alcohol. 

Calm, deep breaths. No need for anything to be thrown out of proportion. 

She needs to keep her head and think of a situation or a way to disappear. 

"You look lovely," a purr just behind her, tells her enough to know who it is. Fingertips find her waist, just as his jaw finds the crook of her neck. He rests his head against the right side of her face. "Green is a lovely color on you." 

"Thank you." She hums. Lightheaded. Her mind is so blank that all she can focus on is the weight of his caress. 

She allows herself to be steered around and into the long arms of the king. 

"Mhmm. So bold, young one." His eyes are gunmetal sharp, and they glisten sharply underneath the mask's veil of horns that twist and branch out like tree branches. 

He twirls her slowly before drawing her back into his _light_. His body is lithe and regal underneath deep shades of what looks like to be glistening starlight against a dark sky. 

It sparkles underneath the faerie light, and it relaxes her jaw in a way that makes the pointed corners of his lips quirk. 

"I want to go lay down. I don't feel well." She speaks, but it is bubbly and doesn't sound much like herself. She's not drunk, but she feels so outside of herself that it makes her clutch onto his suit jacket for composure.

"It is called the nectar of the moon." He murmurs, lips against her head, as she lies her head against his chest. "The drink our pet had brought to you. Do you like it?" 

She nods, feeling her body buzz from its effects. She doesnt even think about questioning his words. Nothing is wrong, everything is perfectly right.

The melody strikes a chord deep within her. An emotional burst that ebbs and flows like a summer's breeze. Is it summer? 

Her mind wanders aimlessly to what her baby brother would be doing, is he missing her? Are her parents aware of the empty space where she was supposed to sleep? Or had time not passed at all?

Time was so terribly tricky, and very much a creature of its own leisure.

She sways, pressed close in a comfortable compromise, that she smiles ever so softly to herself. It is not every day she feels safe.

"Whatever happened to Hoggle? Ludo? Sir Didymus? Ambrosious?" Her tongue feels swollen, as she swallows back a wave of emotion. 

Her companion hums, his voice vibrates through his chest and into the warmth of her skin. She opens her eyes (hadnt her eyes been open before?) And sees the crowd has stopped their dancing to watch the spectra. 

The king waltzes on, clicking softly to her, winding her back to give him full attention. 

"I had brought them to life for you, written them in to be the heroes to your little story." His voice is cold, and it is like he can read her mind because he softly adds. "Would you like them here? Do you miss them?"

The liquid churning within her veins reminds her of the situation, and she only brings herself to nod a no. Tears brim, hot and heavy, against the warmth of the mask that settles against her face. 

* * *

 

The human girl smells  _wrong._

Tainted by magic and practically drugged at such a degree that hold's Azazel attention prisoner. He cannot drag his eyes away from the sight. 

His emotions, albeit he hardly ever feels anything, swim dully. His control falters, and it feels so wrong to watch the king slowly lift the mask from the girl's face. 

Azazel does not care to learn faces. But the human's face etches into his memory and places itself there. Her cheeks are flushed and shiny with salt and water, and even from the distance, he can tell that the King radiates with deep infatuation for this girl. 

The human is the Queen of the realm of The Underground. 

"Sarah." A voice hums from behind him, it rolls with pure anger, and it is his sister's voice. 

The music stops just as the king cackles darkly.

 

* * *

 

Rolan _aches_.

He aches because he can still taste her, he aches because he sees her within the arms of the monster. 

The beast, the hellish creature, has her entwined within it's web of lies and deceit. Within the mockery of fascination, or gods forbid-  _Love._

_"Dearest pet, I know who you are, and I have known what you have done. I set you free, and spare your life because I would believe it to make her happy." The eyes burn into him, racking dirty tracks of disease and madness into his soul, as the magic leaks into the cage and burns his skin._

_One moment he is but a bird, and the next a man._

_"I will kill you. If you as much lay a finger on he-" he seethes and he feels the edge of Jareths boot dig into the side of his face._

_Rolan lies on the ground,  bloody and new from his beast form, forced to his hands and knees in a mockery of worship._

_"You." The king laughs, his voice is broken and brittle and it etches into the blades of three or four other voices harmonized. Perfected. "Think that **you can kill me?"**_

_The boot chips at the cheekbone of Rolan's face, making his skull scream. More pressure and his skull will fracture and split._

_He goes to say something, spit something back, when his heart palpitates painfully._

_"If you dare touch her." Jareth says quietly, voice wavering with unbridled rage "It is I who will be your ending. Do you hear me?"_

 

He remembers nothing but waking up upon the dance floor, dressed and ready, a bottle of the finest goblin liquor within his hands. 

 

But now, now is different, now the fury has settled in. Because he can smell the atmosphere shift from pleasant to chaotic, and he can see the way the yellow-eyed freak watches her from across the room. 

The witcher shouldn't be here, but then again- neither should she. 

The drink has affected her more than he would have liked, but he is glad it levels her out enough to not send the room into a frenzy. 

Its been a long time since many of them have witnessed a human, even longer to have one waltz into their world without much repercussion. 

But its the man. Its Lilith's brother that sends him _over_ the _edge_. 

No doubt there is a bounty on the girls head, he knows because he had once been her bounty hunter. But she is no monster, and the peculiar way the man watches her, makes his skin _crawl_.

Azazel couldn't be hunting her. He would need a reason, at least Rolan had always _thought_ the man to spare the innocent. 

Something flashes and a deep growl commences throughout the room. 

With smooth and almost gentle fixation, the King removes the masks of Sarah and himself. Making it very clear to the room, of their status. 

The human is to be the queen.

Slowly, as if time had begun to crawl,  the king's head lifts back into a mocking laugh. 

A sensation, a clarification. A dare. 

Rolan bristles, and the music begins once more. A madhouse of song meant only to churn on the action. 

* * *

 

"My darling," he whispers, long bony finger caressing the bones of her cheek. His voice is so light, and his eyes are so bright and animalistic that it makes her fear spike. "Do you trust me?" 

No. _No_ , she doesn't, so why does she say yes? Why does she cling to his shirt like a child? Its barely there, the nod, but it brings a soft smile to his face. 

An almost _playful_ demeanor crosses his features before she feels a soft kiss being placed against the top of her head. 

She trusts him. She  _trusts-_

She is moving, too fast, her arm burns from the sheer force of being pushed away. It all seems timed, but shes not clear-minded enough to really notice anything as the colors blur around her. 

Theres a loud noise, a sharp intake, as two massive hands grip at her and steady her. Then it is yellow eyes that sear into her. 

Nothing makes sense, she turns- searching, when the lights flicker out into complete darkness.

 

The band commences. 

 

* * *

 

 His twin had missed the girl by mere inches, but the king had anticipated it. 

She had fallen into his trap. Her sharp face bright with the realization of her predicament just as she swipes a long sparkling blade at the king's throat. 

A threat. A declare.

Azazel feels the room shift, the disbelief that the next queen is to be the girl, it burns through every creature and turns the place into that of a madhouse. 

Its understandable. Humans are disposable. Indefinitely useless when ruling a place where eternity is but a days time. 

The fragile creature gets thrown into the shadows nearest him. He finds her, dizzy and disoriented, and quickly makes work of finding an exit. 

He risks a glance back, the girl tucked within his arms, to see his sister (for what could be the last time) when the lights flicker out. 

Not that lights matter, as the many eyes of the party guest's spark to life and glow eerily within the darkness. 

"WHERE IS SHE JARETH?" Lilith screams into the darkness, her anger is clouded, and she will not last long if she does not think. Which she will not, her passion is strong.

She had thought she deserved that crown, and her greed runs deep. 

He glances down at the girl within his arms and knows that Lilith would never stop hunting her. 

Apart of him wants to stop, to help his sister, but he does not want to get tied into the king's wrath. Not even for family. Not when she had put their entire lineage in danger. 

No one threatens the king. _No one_. 

He wants to mourn his sister but swallows the emotion down. Letting the numbness devour it whole.

The brisk night air pricks his skin, and coils the girl up in his arms like she is cold. 

For a moment he stands there, waiting, not really sure as to what to do when he hears the sound of the door behind him open. 

"If you take another step, I will have your head." The voice rumbles, far to deep to be the king's, and too familiar for it's own good. 

"I did not take you to be one of the king's hounds," He turns, catching the sight of the man, confirming who he'd thought him to be. "like your brothers."

Something flashes across Rolan's face, something like resentment- or sadness, it is too human for a creature like him.

Azazel takes a step back.

"Will you stick to your word? Bounty hunter." He speaks, watching curiously what the other man will do. This girl is important, too important to be within his arms creating trouble like this. 

All he had wanted was for her to be safe. 

"Are you going to steal her too?" Rolan growls, hitting a nerve. "I know how you halfbreeds like to fall in love with mortals. I know how you stole-"

Azazel growls deeply, and quickly maneuvers away. If they are to fight over nonsense then let the girl be far from the castle chaos. 

He'd always been good within the darkness. The shadows, the _demons_.

Something tells him that he cannot take the girl so far that the king becomes angered. 

Stone chips under his strength as he hauls himself, and the girl, over an edge and climbs quickly into a hall of windows. A bridge that separates one sanction from another. Its beautiful within the stillness of the night, and only dampened by the music drifting in through the wind. 

He makes to sitting the girl down, his large hand checking her vitals with a gentleness he can only mirror from experience. 

She is alive, not overly drugged out of her head. Her cheeks are flushed a heavy pink, and her lips are cracked from dehydration. Without thinking he quickly grabs the canteen from his side, the rough leather feels good underneath this calluses as he pops the lid off and slowly tries to get her to drink. 

"She looks a lot like her, doesn't she?" Rolan's voice hums, accompanied by the soft sweeping noise of the sheer curtains blowing within the wind. Azazel tries to ignore his suggestion, just as hes tried to ignore it the entire time since he had seen the girl.

"She does." and she does. The soft velvet strands of deep brown. The full lashes splayed across the flushed cheeks. It is like the mirror image of his...

He cannot dwell on that.  Why must he dwell on something of long ago?

He is not the creature that speaks to him with such venom. 

He stands and is caught within the abrupt heat of a fist. He blocks it, easily, and quickly maneuvers himself away from the girl so shes not caught up within this. 

He hopes the water helps flush the alcohol out of her system enough to make her wake up. 

Rolan, he had known Rolan for some time. An orphan having walked from the confines of the forest. 

So fierce and twisted, so very like him, that he had wanted to take him into the guild. 

He had so much potential, and by looking at the mass of the man, he would have been perfect. But the _emotion_. 

The emotional pull had been a risk. The emotion had limited him to such a degree, rendering the poor boy- useless. 

Rolan is larger, to a degree, but Azazel knows how to limit the emotion and craft it into a blade. 

The man rushes towards him with blind force, hungry, something within his eyes that Azazel cannot place. 

It gives him time to sidestep, turn, lodge a mindful punch in between the shoulders. 

He does not want to kill the kid and is confused as to why they are fighting. 

"I am not here for her." he says, softly, as he assesses the other. Rolan turns quickly, growling. 

 

* * *

 

"You _must_ be here for her." A voice like churned steel brings her to consciousness. "because your twin has put a sizeable bounty on her head."

There is silence, and as the colors filter and arrange themselves, she can see the two men infront of her. 

Rolan, who does not wear a mask anymore, and the stranger whom stills wears the same cloth to hide his lower face. Yellow eyes flicker to her for a moment, and linger. 

"And you would know, because you are a bounty hunter?" The stranger says, his voice is melted velvet, warm chocolate that is much deeper in octave than Rolan's. It rolls across her mind before the weight of the statement does. 

"Yes! Because that foul _bitch_ had put me on the job, unleashed me from my hell." Rolan seethes, and she knows hes completely unaware of her than the other man. 

"There is no reason for you to curse with your tongue _child_." The stranger growls, the hood of his cloak falls down to reveal long strands of white hair, he seems unbothered as he pulls the mask down from his face and bares his teeth. "Your manners have dabbled to nothing, and you are unraveling. Has the curse overtaken your mind _Raven? O_ r is it the strange affiliation you have to this girl making you _sloppy_?"

She stares, and nothing is sinking in as it should. The words seem to float around her. 

Her world spins. There is uncomfortable silence before Rolan is rushing forward.

It is so fast that it makes her dizzy. 

The stranger quickly deflects the punch, and the sound of flesh hitting flesh pierces the air. 

Rolan's face whips to the side. 

She is too out of it to focus, but she knows she should be angry. 

She watches the muscles roll underneath the uniform of Rolan's suit, and finds herself remembering the moment above ground. 

The simple conversation on the sidewalk. Two strangers. But he had not been a stranger, he had _known_ who she was. 

She was supposed to die by his hands. Tears burn, and every image cuts her like a knife. 

The time in the caverns. The times she had relied on him, felt _safe_ with him, _loved_ him.

"Just let me go." The words weep from her, and she's crying. The overflowing well of emotion has rolled over and given up. "Please, just let me go. I don't belong to anyone. I don't belong here. Just pleeease."

The dress she is wearing feels too constricting, and she feels like she is heating to death. She claws herself to her feet, and the want of jumping out of one of the windows crosses her mind. 

"Sarah?" It's Rolan's voice, and she hisses at it like it is a sin. 

"Leave me alone. Leave me  _alone."_

_"Get away from her."_ Rolan growls, and she turns to see the stranger stepping towards her. It's like he reads her mind, and his broad hand opens (palm up) for her to take. 

 

"I know what it is like to not be free." The man says, and he comes close enough for her to see his face. To see the deep scars stretch across his face, from one temple to the other, as if a blade had tried to cut the yellow eyes from their socket. He is sharp, finely tuned to look more like a weapon than a resemblance of a human. His long hair spills around his shoulders and blows softly to reveal very normal human ears. 

_Half-Born._

"To not fit in." He continues, and she looks past him to Rolan who stands. Constricted and furious. His eyes are molten with anger, and he looks feral and alive. Like a hot wire. 

"Please let me be free. Please." She whispers, fingers digging into the stone, and the stranger is close enough that the pale curtains glide against the dark slate armor. 

"Azazel if you touch her, I will _Kill_  you."

So his name is Azazel. 

Azazel does not turn from her, he does not acknowledge the threat, he just offers her his hand. His eyes glow within the semi-darkness, and the music has long stopped. They do not have enough time before the King shows his face, and she doesn't know if she should really do this. 

But she does it anyway. She grabs his hand and feels the firm grip wrap around her like armor. 

She feels his body hit hers with force as they both tip out of the window and free fall. The last thing she sees is the edge of a blade and the hunger and betrayal written across her friend's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Azazel IS a witcher, but this has no correlations to Geralt or The Witcher franchise. I only became inspired by the concept, and wanted to use it. Since this is my character and my story, it will most likely be nothing like the show/games/books. I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Azazel is not a love interest to Sarah, not that I know of at least. Hes going to be more stable. (If this story can even be stable.)
> 
> By the way, Rolan is really losing his mind to this love stuff right? I wonder if he remembers his deal with the Moor?


End file.
